


Parseltongue and a Library

by Lyn_Laine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry, Bisexual Harry Potter, F/M, M/M, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Harry, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12301191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyn_Laine/pseuds/Lyn_Laine
Summary: In which Hatstalls are double-sorted into more than one house, the Sorting Hat is incisive just to be incisive, and the Sorting Hat decides it would be a really fun idea to place Harry in both Ravenclaw and Slytherin houses.  It's sink or swim from there, and Harry isn't the only one affected by these changes.Inspired partly by a story idea I saw somewhere else once.  Harry/Tom Riddle is not the same as Harry/Voldemort.





	1. Chapter 1

The group of first years crowded close together nervously outside a little anteroom off of what must be the Great Hall - a great chorus of voices could be heard from a doorway to their right, the rest of the school must already be there, but there was a door to a much smaller room in front of them.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “You are about to pass into the Great Hall and join your classmates, but before you take your seats in the Hall, you must be Sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will take classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“At Hogwarts, any triumphs will earn you points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“This year, however, we have decided to instate the Sorting Ceremony slightly differently. In the past, you would pass through those doors and be Sorted into a house in front of the rest of the school -”

Harry suddenly felt rather sick.

Professor McGonagall gave a wry little smile as she saw the color drain from more than one face. “However, this year, the rules have changed.

“One by one, you will go into this anteroom. The Sorting Ceremony implement awaits you inside.” Harry wasn’t sure if it was his fear or not, but ‘implement’ sounded distinctly sinister. “It will tell you what house you belong in. This has been instated to give each student more personalized attention when it comes to the Sorting process. You will then take what is inside that room to the door at the other end of it, and it will announce your housing to the entire school. Your house table will clap for you, and you go to sit at your seat. See? Simple.”

It was, Harry had to admit, better than being Sorted spur of the moment in front of the entire school.

“We have also started a second rule this year. Anyone whose housing is uncertain at first will be placed within two houses at the implement’s discretion, not one. This person’s things will be moved and they will alter from one house to the other from day to day, from one table to the other during the dinner and dessert parts of feasts, and between houses in any house competitions.

“That should be all. I will call you in one at a time. Oh, and one more thing.” She paused as she took out a scroll. “When you enter the room, you will see a scroll sitting by the door. Please pick it up and read it before being Sorted.

“Abbott, Hannah!”

And so it began. One by one, in alphabetical order, students were called into the other room and they never came back out. There was no noise, really - they just never reappeared.

“How exactly do they Sort people into houses?” Harry murmured to Ron at last, irrationally afraid that people were being killed in there.

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

A test that hurt? But was silent? Harry imagined being strangled by something magical and yes, now he was definitely sick to his stomach. He wondered if there were a house for people who felt a bit queasy. He wondered if he wouldn’t be up to snuff, if he’d be turned away at the door or - worse - if he never came out at all.

Finally: “Potter, Harry!”

Whispers suddenly broke out among the first years. Everyone made way and stared, wide-eyed, as Harry stepped up slowly and uncertainly from their midst. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and walked into the anteroom past Professor McGonagall, closing the door carefully behind him as the other students had.

The room was surprising. It was empty except for a table near the door that had a scroll atop it… and a stool in the center of the room. Atop the stool sat a very frayed, patched, dirty pointed wizard’s hat.

Harry would have had to take up the scroll now in any case. He was desperately confused. He took up the scroll of parchment, unfurled it, and read silently:

You may not think I’m pretty

But don’t judge on what you see

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me

You can keep your bowlers black

Your top hats sleek and tall

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all

There’s nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can’t see

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be

You might belong in Gryffindor

Where dwell the brave at heart

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw

If you’ve a ready mind

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends

So put me on

Don’t be afraid

And don’t get in a flap

You’re in safe hands 

Though I have none

For I’m a Thinking Cap

“So… I try on the Hat, and it tells me. That simple.” Harry was so surprised he said it out loud.

A flap near the brim of the Hat opened wide like a mouth and Harry physically jumped. “Correct,” said the Hat.

“Okay… can I ask a question?” said Harry tentatively.

“Yes.” The Hat sounded puzzled.

“... What if I’m not any of it?” said Harry in a desperate kind of bewilderment. “What if I’m not… brave, or just and loyal, or quick witted, or cunning and ambitious… what if I don’t have any nerve? Do I have to go back?”

To Harry’s surprise, the Hat chuckled. “In all my years, I have never seen one person who is ‘not any of it,’ Mr Potter,” it said, clearly amused.

Harry suddenly jumped again as a round of screams echoed behind him.

“That will be the ghosts,” said the Hat, “floating toward the Great Hall for the opening feast.” It sounded almost bored.

“How long have you been doing this?” Harry asked curiously.

“A thousand years. This change in the rules is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me,” said the Hat flatly.

“Oh,” said Harry. “Er - sorry.”

“Thanks,” said the Hat. “Just sit down and put me on. Now I’m curious about you. Do you know, no one else has asked me anything, in spite of the increase in personal time?”

Not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, Harry walked over and took up the Hat. He sat slowly down on the stool and put on the Hat. It slid right down over his eyes. He was looking at the black inside and he waited.

“... Well,” said the Hat, “you are different. But not in a bad way. There are two ways I can do this. Let’s have you decide with me. The first way would be standard. We argue over whether you belong in Slytherin or Gryffindor.”

“And what’s the second way?” said Harry quickly.

“Well… I’m doing this because I like you, Mr Potter, but also because you have more potential to change things than most. I see placing you in two houses as being of particular significance to you and to the wizarding world. I could place you in those two houses… if you trust me, a thousand year old mind reader, that everything will work out for the best in the end.”

“I trust you,” said Harry immediately. “But… how would I be put in a house I don’t belong in?”

“I would have to do a few mind modifications,” said the Hat carefully. “Little things. No big changes to your personality. But they would make you a little more…”

“Wizardly,” Harry interpreted.

“Sort of,” said the Hat. “They would help you fit in better with your two new houses. You strike me as someone who wants to make something of himself, Mr Potter, who wants to prove himself as more than just a name, and let me give you a hint - no one at Hogwarts can read my mind, but certain Professors can read yours. So if you want a leg up on them, you’ll want it now, before anyone has read your original mindscape.”

“... No one’s read my mind yet?” said Harry. His heart thundered and he was thinking fast.

“Mr Ollivander did. But Mr Ollivander has no great personal stake in your life, Harry. He gave you a very powerful wand - the emotional, volatile holly and the remote, independent phoenix core are a unique and potent combination, to say nothing of your core’s connection to a certain other powerful wizard’s wand. Ah, but you don’t like to think of that, do you?” There was a little smirk in the Hat’s voice now.

Harry’s hands clenched the stool. “No,” he said in a hard voice. “He killed my parents.”

“Very well. So you do not want to become him. You don’t have to. But Mr Ollivander had the most significance in your life he will probably ever have, Harry. Minerva McGonagall wouldn’t read your mind out of respect and politeness. With others in your future… I cannot be quite so reassuring.

“Do you agree or not?”

The door suddenly opened. “Mr Potter, are you a Hatstall?” said McGonagall’s voice, and Harry jumped.

“Yes, he is!” the Hat snapped aloud, and Harry suddenly realized this entire conversation had been going on in his mind, in his ear. “Get out!”

There was an exasperated sigh and the door shut again.

“I agree,” said Harry quickly, desperately. “Anything that will get me through all this - yes, I agree. I do want to prove myself - as more than just a name.”

“How quick. You don’t care of your mind being tampered with?” said the Hat softly.

Harry thought about it. He went through it all in his mind - the traumatizing early memories, the horrid life with his magic-fearing Muggle relatives, the feeling that he’d never quite fit into this wondrous new world he found himself in. And did he particularly like himself? … No.

He paused at the memory of his fun time with Ron.

“Make sure I can still feel love,” he whispered, “and friendship. For my friends… and my parents.” He felt a twinge.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. All the houses can feel that,” said the Hat.

“Even Slytherin?” Harry was surprised.

“Even Slytherin,” said the Hat dryly. “Mr Potter, there is a rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and I am afraid all of your friends so far have been Gryffindors. I’m not saying they were bad people -” he added when Harry started to speak. “Everyone has their biases. 

“In fact, if you really want to make a difference, one of the houses I’m going to have to place you in is Slytherin.”

Harry swallowed. “... He was in there.”

“The one who killed your parents, yes. So was Merlin, a famous medieval Muggle rights advocate and a Light wizard. I’m sure you’ve heard of him?” said the Hat contemptuously.

“... Yes,” said Harry, conceding. “I can’t believe I’ll have to put up with Malfoy… what’s the other house?”

“Ravenclaw.”

“I don’t feel particularly brilliant.”

“Give it a minute. You’re sure you want to go through with this, Mr Potter? It is, I’m afraid… irreversible.”

“Love and friendship aside, and I don’t know where I got that, there’s nothing in my past worth keeping anyway,” said Harry darkly. He took a deep, bracing breath. “Go ahead.”

“Alright. Now…” And all of a sudden the outside world faded away. “This will be a surprisingly interactive process,” the Hat’s voice echoed through Harry’s mind in the sudden blackness. Harry found himself standing in a dark, empty space. “I have frozen time,” said the Hat. “I can only do it for so long, so let’s make this as brief as possible.

“Here’s what has to happen. The number of your Slytherin responses has to exactly sync up with the number of your Ravenclaw responses, and that number has to win out. Then I can Hatstall and double-house you. So you are allowed other responses, but all the numbers have to allocate correctly.

“So I ask you a series of questions and give you a list of possible answers. Each set of questions will fit in a tally mark with a number above it - look, you’re very confused, so let’s just start. It’ll seem simpler once it’s shown to you.”

“Er - okay,” said Harry at last.

Four questions appeared floating in glowing letters before Harry. Two answers for each question were highlighted, out of the four possible.

“The highlighted are recommended, if you think you can manage it. Notice that one highlight is green and one is blue. Blue for Ravenclaw, green for Slytherin. Get it? So you try to choose -”

“Two of each. Right,” said Harry, determined. “Alright. So…” He peered at the questions.

How would you like to be known to history? Which of the following would you most hate people to call you? Given a choice, would you rather invent a potion that would guarantee you which of these things? After you have died, what would you most like people to do when they hear your name?

He looked at his primary choices. “I can live with… being called The Great by history… and a dislike of being called ordinary. So my other two choices would be Ravenclaw. A potion that would guarantee me wisdom sounds less sketchy than a potion that would guarantee me power. And… saying it doesn’t matter what people say about me after I’m dead sounds so cold… so I’m going with ‘think of my achievements.’ I… do want to achieve things. It’s not untrue. And I do want to prove myself. So I can live with that.”

The four answers were highlighted and the questions disappeared. This time they were replaced by new ones, with more blue and green answers particularly highlighted.

“This is the next set,” Harry realized. 

“Yes,” said the Hat simply. “Set one and set two both take one point. So far, both Slytherin and Ravenclaw therefore have one point.”

Harry looked at the new questions.

Once every century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers that adapt their scent to attract the unwary. If it lured you, it would smell of?

Four boxes are placed before you. Which would you try and open?

What kind of instrument most pleases your ear?

Four goblets are placed before you. Which would you choose to drink?

You enter an enchanted garden. What would you be most curious to examine first?

“One of these has to belong to another house,” Harry realized. “So…” He examined his answers. “I’ll choose two Slytherin answers just because they sound interesting and magical. The goblet I choose is the inky visions goblet and in the garden I go to the luminous pool first.

“My two Ravenclaw answers will be the sound of the piano and the scent of fresh parchment.

“That leaves my one final answer - the box answer. I almost thought of going to the box with the squeaking animal… but I think I’ll go to the simple pewter box. It reads, ‘I open only for the worthy.’”

“A Gryffindor answer,” said the Hat. “Very well. Ravenclaw and Slytherin win out, so one point more each to both Slytherin and Ravenclaw.”

The questions faded away and new ones replaced them.

“The third and fourth question sets both have two points each,” said the Hat. “So double that of sets one and two.”

A troll has gone berserk in the Headmaster’s study at Hogwarts. It is about to smash, crush and tear several irreplaceable items and treasures. In which order would you rescue these objects from the troll’s club, if you could?

Which would you rather be?

Which of the following do you find most difficult to deal with?

“... This is going to have to be the one where I go off-script,” said Harry, determined. “One two pointer in favor of another house shouldn’t hurt anything, should it?”

“It shouldn’t, but it’s a risk,” said the Hat. “Not much leeway after this.”

“But this is… horrifying. Of course I choose the dragon pox cure. Then Merlin’s book of runes. Then the student records. In that order.

“I would rather be trusted - much more than being things like liked, imitated, envied, or feared.

“And… I don’t want to be affected by emotional things, like being ignored or boredom or loneliness… so I’ll go with hating being hungry. Being hungry reminds of times without food at the Dursleys’. And hating cold would be rather inconvenient in a castle in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, quite,” said the Hat, sounding amused. “So… that’s two points to Hufflepuff.”

“Hufflepuffs must not get enough credit just for being decent people,” Harry muttered.

The questions disappeared and new ones took their place. Set four, Harry remembered - two points.

What are you most looking forward to learning at Hogwarts?

If you could have any power, which would you choose?

Which of the following magical beings would you most like to study?

“I want to be the kind of person who learns every area of magic I can,” said Harry, determined. “I want to do well here.”

“Very well,” said the Hat. “That was a Ravenclaw primary, Slytherin secondary answer. So now you have to choose the reverse… and then one that has nothing to do with either of them.”

Harry examined the highlighted answers for a moment.

“I choose the power to change my appearance at will, a reverse answer. Then I choose to study werewolves - which is neither Slytherin or Ravenclaw.”

The answers faded and new ones took their place.

“One point for set five,” said the Hat.

One of your house mates has cheated in a Hogwarts exam by using a Self-Spelling Quill. Now he has come top of the class in Charms, beating you into second place. Professor Flitwick is suspicious of what happened. He draws you to one side after his lesson and asks you whether or not your classmate used a forbidden quill. What do you do?

Which road tempts you most?

A Muggle confronts you and says that they are sure you are a witch or wizard. Do you?

Late at night, walking alone down the street, you hear a peculiar cry that you believe to have a magical source. Do you?

You and two friends need to cross a bridge guarded by a river troll who insists on fighting one of you before he will let all of you pass. Do you?

Which nightmare would frighten you most?

“So. Three answers per house,” said Harry, getting tired but determined not to flag. This was important. “Let’s see…

“My Slytherin answers are: The narrow, dark, lantern-lit alley. Draw my wand and stand my ground. Suggest all three fight - cheating, essentially.

“My Ravenclaw answers are: Tell the Professor the truth when he asks. Ask the Muggle what makes them think that. And the nightmare of standing up high with no handholds would frighten me the most.”

“Alright. Six and seven are easy,” said the Hat smoothly, as if sensing Harry was getting tired. Harry relaxed in relief. “Pick one house for one set. Pick the other house for the other set. If I may recommend Ravenclaw first, based on what I can gather from your mind?”

The old questions faded and news ones appeared - they were simple, one word answer, either-or questions.

“Moon over stars, forest over river, dawn over dusk,” said Harry. Then, when set seven came, “Black over white, left over right, tails over heads.”

The last questions faded away and he slumped in relief.

“Those last two sets were half a point each, so that totally ties you,” said the Hat triumphantly. “Your pet is a female snowy owl, which is the other standard piece of information to know.” Then it paused. “... Are you ready for this?”

“Yes,” said Harry, tired. “Just do it.” He was done with this life - ready to move on to a new one. It seemed fitting, to become a new person in this new wizarding world.

Then, suddenly, it was like every nerve in his brain was electrified. He sat bolt upright. He felt this weird shift inside him.

Then, slowly, he took off the Hat. He felt different, though he couldn’t define why. Slowly, quiet and cautious, he stood up. He felt more dignified, somehow - calmer, softer, and more certain. But he didn’t feel like a bad person - whatever that was, he thought frankly.

“Well, Harry,” said the Hat. “Let’s go announce you. Oh, and for your information - the other two Hatstalls so far have been Neville Longbottom - your polar opposite, a Gryffindor Hufflepuff hybrid - and Hermione Granger, a Ravenclaw Gryffindor hybrid.”

“Right,” said Harry quietly, frowning. He wasn’t sure yet what to do with this information. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

He took the Hat and walked out of the far door - into the magnificent Great Hall. Everyone turned around to stare at him.

“Harry Potter is -!”

Whispers broke out among the students.

“A Hatstall!” called the Hat. “He is Sorted into both Ravenclaw and Slytherin!”

Great shouts broke out among the students. Harry stood, uncomfortable, and then walked back into the anteroom, setting down the Hat on the stool. He could feel, hear, thundering cheering begin behind him.

“... Thank you,” he murmured to the Hat. “I hope you were right.”

“I haven’t been wrong yet,” said the Hat smugly.

McGonagall suddenly burst in. “Potter, are you sure?!” She must have heard. Everyone, including Ron, was staring at Harry from behind her.

Harry looked expressionlessly at Professor McGonagall. “Yes, Professor,” he said simply. “Everything’s fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry entered the Great Hall. It was a vast place taken up by four long golden tables laid with glittering gold plates and goblets. One table for each house. Great tapestries that must announce the houses hung on the surrounding walls. Harry saw one that was blue - Ravenclaw, he thought, interested - and it was tinged in bronze with an eagle emblem across it. Another was green - Slytherin - and it was tinged in silver with a snake emblem across it.

Harry decided to keep an open mind about Slytherin. If what the Hat had said was true and Gryffindors were prejudiced… and he had fond memories of the snakes he’d already encountered in his life. And birds could fly, which was pretty cool. Put a serpent and wings together and one had a dragon.

Thousands of candles were floating in midair over the tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. Dotted among the students, transparent, floating, pearly ghosts shone misty silver. The ceiling above the Great Hall was bewitched to look like the calm, clear night sky outside. Great windows could be seen at the very ceiling edge of the Hall. At the front of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Everyone was applauding him, cheering, mainly two tables in particular. Two students got up, one from each table, and rushed over to greet him, clasping his hand.

“Harry, I’m Ravenclaw Prefect Robert Hilliard,” said the boy, smiling, who had bronze hair and a tall, muscular, broad-shouldered build.

“And I’m Gemma Farley. Welcome to Slytherin,” said the girl, smirking, who had black hair, black eyeliner, and some serious ink.

“Let me guess,” said Harry. “Quidditch player -” He pointed at Robert, who looked surprised. “Music fanatic.” He pointed at Gemma.

“Yeah,” said Gemma, frankly impressed. “How did you know?”

“Just… trying to profile people and find my way around,” said Harry, trying for a smile.

“Well you’re doing a good job so far. So - which house do you want to go to for dinner, and which for dessert?” Gemma asked frankly.

“Er - will I be offending whoever I don’t pick first?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows.

Both of the Prefects laughed. “No,” said Robert, amused. “Each house would get the same amount of time.”

“Okay… so… how about Ravenclaw for dinner and Slytherin for dessert?” Harry tried.

“Sounds good to me. Ravenclaw gets you first and I get you for the fun part of the meal,” said Gemma, smirking. “Win-win.” She turned to her house table and shouted, “We get him for the sugar fest!”

Harry watched in amused, good-natured bewilderment as the Slytherin table cheered madly.

“That means you’re in Ravenclaw Monday through Wednesday and Slytherin Thursday and Friday,” Robert offered as Harry walked with him to the cheering Ravenclaw table. “Then Slytherin on Saturday and Ravenclaw on Sunday. See?”

“And… my stuff is moved for me?” said Harry, puzzled but interested. 

“Correct. You don’t have to move anything for yourself,” said Robert, and he let Harry sit down with the other eager first year Ravenclaws.

“Harry, great job!” said Hermione enthusiastically as he sat down next to her. She had chosen Ravenclaw for dinner as well. “Won’t this be fascinating? We’ll both get such a unique, multi-house experience!”

“Yeah. You’ll have to help me fit in as a Ravenclaw. You seem brilliant,” said Harry with flat frankness. Hermione turned pink and looked down at her lap, seeming very pleased.

Harry looked down at his uniform. As far as he could tell, robes were ancient traditional fare but most wizards wore Muggle clothes underneath them, and under his robes was a regular black school uniform with long dark pants. His tie was now multi colored - blue and bronze on one side, green and silver on the other.

Harry then turned to look at the High Table. He spotted Professor Quirrell, looking very absurd in a large purple turban, along with Professor Dumbledore with his shining silver beard in the center and Hagrid at the far end. Both Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore looked… worried?

“Er… do all Gryffindors have a problem with Slytherins?” Harry whispered to Hermione.

“Maybe.” She looked concerned. “I mean, that would be very silly, but - maybe they all do.”

Harry thought with a downturn in his stomach of Ron.

More students came through, the Hat announcing their house. No more students were made Hatstalls, though Harry could spy Neville over at the Hufflepuff table for the dinner portion. Malfoy was over at the Slytherin table, along with Crabbe and Goyle, apparently not a Hatstall. Finally, Ron came through.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the Hat, and Harry’s last bit of hope faded. He tried to catch Ron’s eye as Ron went to sit with his brothers - maybe it was just coincidence, but Ron didn’t even seem to want to look at him. He felt a sliver of self conscious concern.

“... I’m sorry, Harry,” said Hermione quietly. “If it’s any consolation… I think it’s great how things turned out for you.”

“Thanks,” said Harry meaningfully, looking over at her.

“You’ll make friends in your new houses,” said Hermione certainly. “I’m sure of it. I mean, you already have one in Ravenclaw, don’t you?” She lifted her head proudly.

Harry smiled slightly despite himself. “Yeah,” he said, “I do.” Hermione seemed a little bossy, awkward, and eccentrically brilliant… but brilliance wasn’t always a bad thing and she also seemed to have a good heart. In the end, weirdly enough, she was actually less prejudiced than Ron.

Blaise Zabini was made a Slytherin and the Sorting seemed to be over. A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall slipped into the Great Hall alone and sat in a chair beside Dumbledore. Harry wondered where the Hat went besides for Sorting. Somehow, he hoped frankly that it wasn’t put into a storage bin somewhere. That seemed rather cruel.

Dumbledore had stood, his arms spread wide, beaming. His previous worry seemed gone without a trace. The Hall fell silent.

“Welcome to our banquet!” he said. “Before we begin our feast, I would just like to say a few words, and here they are! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you!”

He sat back down and everybody clapped and cheered. Harry laughed despite himself and started clapping as well. He had to hand it to Dumbledore - being that open with eccentricity took a certain amount of nerve.

Then he looked down and gasped, as did Hermione. The table in front of them was suddenly piled with food. All along the long table were feasts of proportions he had never imagined. He picked out some steak and potatoes happily and started away at it.

“So - I heard you’re separate from someone you met on the Express and now he doesn’t like you.” Harry looked around in surprise. An Indian girl with coffee skin tinged bronze and long thick black hair sat there, chewing and staring at him frankly.

“Er - yes?” He was unimpressed by her eavesdropping.

“That’s a shit thing to do,” said the girl. She seemed good for a flat, deadpan, blunt lack of emotion and sounded perpetually like she was being sarcastic. “My twin sister was just put into Gryffindor but you won’t see me not talking to her.”

“Well, exactly,” said Hermione emphatically. “Isn’t it awful?”

“This is Hermione Granger,” Harry introduced. “We met on the Express. Hermione, this is -?” He looked over at the girl and raised an eyebrow.

“Padma Patil,” she said, sticking out her hand. “My family from India are usually Ravenclaws, and Hermione I know is a Muggleborn, so if you’d like I can show you two around.” Again, Harry was impressed by the sheer self confidence and willpower this calm introduction and offer took.

“Sounds good,” said Harry, surprised. “Please teach us, oh wise one.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful!” said Hermione enthusiastically, her bushy frizzes of brown hair adding emphasis to her wide-eyed excitement.

“Well, the great thing about Ravenclaws is that we get along at least tacitly with pretty much everyone else,” said Padma as they ate. “We don’t have the whole Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry, but we’re also not made fun of the way Hufflepuffs are.”

“I got that impression,” Harry admitted.

“But there’s more to us than neutrality,” said Padma. “Let me take you through some Ravenclaw basics. 

“First, we don’t like to boast, but we’re the cleverest house. We prize learning above all else; doing well magically is really important here. This is personified in our house entrance. Most other houses have concealed, password-locked entrances, but with us you have to answer a riddle to be allowed in. This simple trick has kept out everyone but Ravenclaws for nearly a thousand years. Only Ravenclaws are clever enough to always be able to solve the riddle correctly.”

“And… what if you can’t?” said Harry skeptically, not nearly as thrilled as Hermione looked.

“Oh, it’s always intimidating for first years at first, but we get used to it,” said Padma. “Ravenclaws are quick learners and we enjoy mental and creative challenges, so over time we end up doing just fine. Actually, according to my Dad, it’s a good way to meet new people. It’s not uncommon to find a bunch of Ravenclaws standing around the entrance trying to solve the riddle together - Ravenclaws do help each other in the learning process. And it means you always make sure you’re very prepared and have enough time before entering and leaving the Ravenclaw commons.”

“Fair enough,” said Harry, feeling game and also feeling a bit better. Supposedly, the Hat had given him everything he needed to be a Ravenclaw. He should be okay. Maybe it was just a learning curve. “So… what else?”

“Ravenclaws are the most individual house. We’re okay with eccentrics, geniuses, and oddballs. You’re interested in fortune telling? Cool. You want to dress only in 70’s retro? Awesome. Ravenclaw is where many eccentrics congregate because in Ravenclaw, whatever you want to be, it’s cool.

“Our head of house is kind of eccentric, actually. That’s Professor Flitwick up there.” Padma pointed. A tiny old wizard sitting on a pile of books was at the High Table. He had a pointed little face and a bright smile, a chattery manner.

“He’s a Charms master, a former duelist, and an absolute genius. But you’d never know it. He has this high, squeaky voice and he’s really small and nice to everybody. No one ever suspects him of anything. Don’t ask him what magical creature in his family background makes him so small. It’s extremely rude. And my Mum says that if you’re ever really upset and you go to his office, he takes out this tin of cupcakes he always has ready and Charms them to make them tap-dance for you.

“I know. It’s awesome.

“We have produced a lot of eccentrics, but also a lot of brilliant wizards and witches - an unusual amount of them, actually. We have a particular proclivity for inventors, innovators, and hard headed, fly by the seat of the pants politicians.

“Now, as for the other houses… Slytherins aren’t horrible the way most people say they are. But, and I hate saying this in front of you, Harry, they have a long, proud of history of doing whatever it takes to win. Now, this usually makes them very successful, but it can also sometimes make them… a little utilitarian, which can come across as underhanded. Slytherins can be a bit merciless. So feel free to befriend Slytherins as a Ravenclaw, but watch out for them when it comes to things like Quidditch matches and big exams.”

Hermione and Padma looked worriedly at Harry. He thought of the river troll question. “That’s fair,” he admitted, shrugging. “Cunning and ambition can be both good and bad. I won’t deny that.”

“Great!” Padma smiled. “The Gryffindors are also okay people, with three caveats. First, they can show off a lot. Second, they’re not… intellectually… curious. Third, this wouldn’t be a bad thing in and of itself if this didn’t also make them somewhat intolerant. You’re experiencing this firsthand, Harry. Unlike Ravenclaws, they don’t keep an open mind. In fact, they can be some of the most close minded people in the whole school. For them, they’re the only ones that matter. And if they see someone who’s eccentric, or not like them… it doesn’t always go well.

“And now we get to Hufflepuffs, and… well… they’re very nice people,” Padma finished awkwardly.

“Neville is very nice,” Hermione supplied.

“Exactly! And that’s great! Being kind is a good thing! Now… do you have to worry about Neville at exam times?”

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. Hermione winced. “... No,” said Harry dryly. “He doesn’t strike me as that type of person.”

“There you go,” said Padma readily. “So… Hufflepuffs are not bad people, but they’re not perfect either. We try to be reasonable in all cases.”

Everyone had been right, Harry thought, impressed. Ravenclaw wasn’t so bad. Actually, it was very good.

“Our house ghost is the Grey Lady.” Padma pointed down the table at the ghost of a tall, elegant, beautiful woman in a long dress. She seemed reserved, distant. “Everyone thinks she never talks to anyone, but that’s because she’ll only speak to Ravenclaws. My Dad says that if you’re ever lost, or you’ve mislaid something… you call for her, and ghosts can go all sorts of places humans can’t and they’re experts at this school, so she’ll fix you right up.

“In short, we pride ourselves on being clever, quirky, and interesting. That’s us. That’s where our pride comes from. And, at the risk of sounding cheesy, you guys are now a part of that, so… congratulations.”

Harry smiled and Hermione leaned forward excitedly. “Is it very Ravenclaw to already be wondering what classes will be like?” she asked excitedly.

Padma laughed, which seemed rare. “Very,” she agreed. “First year we’ll have seven courses: History of Magic, Herbology, Potions, Astronomy, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Don’t worry - we’ll be starting really small in all cases. Lots of theory and maybe some light, easy magic exercises.”

“And - this is really awkward - there are toilet facilities and indoor plumbing, right?” Harry asked, embarrassed.

Padma smirked, seeming amused. “No, you shit where you stand and then Vanish it.” When Harry and Hermione looked horrified, she added, “Kidding! We used to do that. But now we have bathrooms in each communal dorm room as well dotted throughout the school. Only Prefects can be out of the commons after hours, so they have public baths in the Ancient Greek style.”

Dinner was over. Suddenly, the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A minute later, every dessert Harry could think of took dinner’s place along the center of the table.

Harry and Hermione both stood up. “That’s us,” said Harry. He smiled at Hermione. “Good luck at Gryffindor.”

“Good luck at Slytherin,” she returned. “Apparently we’re a couple of rebels!”

Harry laughed and then walked over to the Slytherin first years at their table. Gemma grinned at him as he passed and then he sat down uncertainly among the first year Slytherins, who were smirking and gazing at him avidly. So that was Ravenclaw… he wondered what this would be like.

“Good job at picking the right house,” was the first thing out of Malfoy’s mouth. He sounded rather smug.

Harry clenched his teeth and smiled coldly and politely. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“So what were you talking about with the Ravenclaw nerds over there?” asked a girl with a hard pug face. “Eager about classes?”

“I am a Ravenclaw nerd,” Harry reminded her skeptically. “And we were actually talking shit about the other houses.”

The Slytherins laughed. “That’s genius!” the pug faced girl crowed, grinning.

“Yeah, I guess I never gave Ravenclaws enough credit for being awesome,” said handsome, dark-haired Italian Blaise Zabini.

After the snickers had subsided, Malfoy said, “Well come on, guys. We have to at least measure up. Give him our own little welcome to Slytherin house.”

“I’ll take that up. I’m Pansy Parkinson -” the pug faced girl began.

“And I know everything,” Malfoy finished in a high voice. Harry supposed he should think of him as Draco.

Pansy gave Draco a dirty look. “No comments from the peanut gallery,” she said as Draco snickered. “And I do in fact know everything, so I’ll take up the mantle of introducing you to Slytherin.”

“I have a question,” said Harry. “The whole ‘Slytherin are all Dark wizards’ thing - is it true?” He was quite frank about the question. The whole table fell silent and gave each other glances.

“Would it be bad if it was?” Pansy asked.

“I didn’t attach any value to the question, though I find it interesting that you did,” said Harry in a hard voice. “I just want to know if it’s true.”

“... It’s not,” said a pretty blonde girl with green eyes. She seemed cautious, but game in answering to the rumor. “I’m Daphne Greengrass. And it’s not true. Don’t believe everything you hear from competing houses.”

“We do produce some Dark wizards and witches - we won’t deny that,” said a bespectacled boy with curly brown hair. “Theodore Nott, nice to meet you.” He seemed quiet, matter of fact. “But if all the Dark wizards at Hogwarts were in one house, I’m pretty sure they’d just have expelled the house by now,” he added dryly.

Blaise Zabini snorted and smirked in silent agreement.

“Fair enough,” Harry admitted. “So - the rumor comes from competition?”

“All the houses are in the end a competition. That’s what makes you so interesting.” Pansy grinned. “The other houses produce both Dark and Light wizards and witches as well. They just don’t like admitting it.”

“We’re not all Purebloods either. That’s another weird rumor,” said Daphne, bewildered. “Cunning and ambition are not only gifted to people with nothing but magic in their family and background.”

“It does seem absurd,” Harry admitted. “Sorry - I just heard a lot of conflicting things. Some people said you were horrible; some said that was mostly prejudice; some said you’re alright but to be careful of you. You’re -”

“Controversial.” Daphne shrugged and nodded. Then she grinned. “That’s the way we like it,” she said teasingly.

By now they were all munching away at various desserts. Harry was digging into a kind of cream strawberry tart.

“Wasn’t Merlin a Slytherin?” Harry added next.

“He was.” Blaise nodded. “Famous Muggle rights advocate. Light wizard. It’s good to bring up, not even because that’s ideal to everyone sitting here but because it completely belies all the stupid rumors.”

“And one thing you can say about Merlin is that he was totally brilliant,” said Draco, smirking. “That’s what Slytherins care about. We want you to be brilliant, prove you didn’t deserve to be placed in Hufflepuff under the inventor of the Self Soaping Dishcloth. We don’t actually care that much what your private beliefs are - if you’re one of us.” His grey eyes flashed, a challenge.

“Well, good,” said Harry dryly. “Because apparently I am.” He was actually not displeased with this. Both of his new houses would expect a lot of him. Hopefully he would rise to the challenge.

Maybe that had been the Hat’s reasoning. Maybe it didn’t have a political stance; it could just be extremely incisive.

Draco seemed satisfied by whatever he saw and went back to his dessert.

“So… what else?” Harry asked, turning back to the rest.

“Well, we are cool,” said Pansy. “We are edgy, and we play to win. Get on board, because with us you go full throttle and all the way.”

“And if you don’t feel that way, fake it till you make it,” Daphne added.

“For us, honor is different than for everyone else,” Pansy explained. “See, we have honor to our house, and to the people inside it. So when we’re ruthless in defense of our house, we are being honorable. Another common misconception is that we’re just dirty cheaters - not true.

“We get respect from our fellow students. Is there some fear in there as well? Yes. But take a walk on the wild side. It can be fun. Throw out as a Slytherin that you know a whole library of curses. It doesn’t have to be true, but after that, will anyone feel like nicking any of your stuff? I don’t think so. So think of yourself as wild - crazy - not as scary. Intimidating, maybe.

“But we don’t go out to be bad people. We just want respect. We’re misunderstood a lot because of that, I think.”

“You guys seem really close with each other,” Harry observed, remembering when the Hat’s poem had said Slytherins were real friends. Somehow, it had sounded menacing then. What if it… hadn’t been meant in a menacing way?

“We are,” said Pansy. “Ravenclaws will clamber all over each other to get good marks - fair warning. They are called nerds for a reason. But while we may be ruthless with outsiders, we’re all very protective of people within our own house. We’re brothers. And the minute you’re Sorted into Slytherin, in our eyes, you become one of us and one of the best. The entire house even supposedly bands together to help first year Slytherins get to their classes on time in the first week, maneuvering through Hogwarts as one tight group.

“The original Salazar Slytherin looked for the seeds of greatness in his new students. That’s what each Slytherin has. And if you see a Slytherin and they don’t seem great to you, keep that to your damn self. They are a Slytherin, they are great, and don’t you forget it.”

Here, Pansy glared. Harry’s eyebrows rose. “... Fine by me,” he said. It was oddly comforting and also oddly intimidating, knowing he had already been accepted as one of the best.

Pansy smiled. “Good,” she said, rather as Padma had. But where Padma had praised clear-headed open-mindedness, Pansy praised loyalty to one’s new friends. “Now, as for the Gryffindors…” There were some scoffs around the table and Harry tried hard not to seem too amused. “Some people say Slytherins and Gryffindors have similarities. And maybe they’re right. But in open Slytherin language, Gryffindors are wannabe Slytherins and they enjoy beating us only slightly less than we enjoy beating them. Just accept that, and move on.”

“Loyalty to house,” Harry supplied, smiling. “Of course.” In a weird, fun way, for Slytherins competition almost seemed to be a game - one they were determined to win, in the same way friends ruthlessly cheated against each other over boardgames. House pride must be big among Slytherins.

“Our house ghost is the Bloody Baron,” said Daphne. She pointed at the seat next to Draco’s. “That’s him!” she added brightly.

The Bloody Baron was a gaunt, staring man wearing bloodstains. He was wholly intimidating but also weirdly cool - in other words, the ideal Slytherin ghost.

“How did you get covered in blood?” Blaise Zabini asked bluntly.

The Bloody Baron favored him with a cold, flat glare.

“I think that’s three hundred years ago for ‘fuck off’,” Harry supplied. Draco smirked.

“Indeed,” said the Bloody Baron expressionlessly. He had a hoarse, whispering voice. 

“The Bloody Baron is not a big fan of conversation, so I’ll speak for him,” said Daphne. “Peeves, the school Poltergeist, will never bother a Slytherin because he’s terrified of the Baron. And the Baron will sometimes frighten other people for you, but only if he likes you, so be super respectful of him.”

“Er - okay,” said Harry, looking at the Baron in surprise. He nodded once. “Who’s our head of house?”

“Professor Snape,” Draco supplied, pointing up at the High Table. A tall man with greasy black hair, pale skin, and aquiline features sat there. He seemed reserved and intimidating, and was talking to Professor Quirrell in his absurd turban. “Potions master. An expert at Defense Against the Dark Arts. He’s actually wanted the post for years, but don’t mention that to him. He isn’t the kindest, most patient teacher around, but he’s really damn good at everything he gets his hands on and though he is super strict, he can be nicer to Slytherins than he is to the rest of the school - sometimes.”

Just then, Snape’s black eyes looked directly into Harry’s. Snape didn’t seem angry or hateful - more searching, discerning, confused and curious. But just then, Harry’s scar burned with pain. He gasped and clapped a hand to his forehead.

“Whoa, what the hell was that?” Pansy sat upright.

“N-nothing,” said Harry, looking up. The pain was gone as quickly as it had come and Snape had turned back to Quirrell. Neither of them looked at him again. But the whole thing was weird, because both of them had been looking at him in that moment and the shot of pain had only come from one of them - either Quirrell, with his timid stutter and his absurd turban, or Snape, who seemed almost too likely a suspect.

“Bullshit,” said Blaise Zabini. 

Draco was staring at him discerningly. “Your scar hurt suddenly,” he said. “Didn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Harry shortly, going back to his food.

“Has that ever happened before?”

“No.”

“What does it mean?”

“No idea,” said Harry darkly.

“Great,” said Blaise to the table at large. “He’s going insane.”

“Either that or the scar is some sort of weird Dark energy radar,” said Pansy intently.

“So… how do we get into our house?” Harry asked, moving with effort back to the original subject.

“Oh, blank stretch of wall,” said Pansy, shrugging. “And a weekly password that changes on the notice board in the commons. We figure, if you see it every day in the commons, you’re less likely to forget it.”

“Another weird question,” said Harry. “Why is the house emblem a snake? I mean… does it signify wisdom?”

“That,” said Pansy, “and the house founder, Salazar Slytherin, he could speak to snakes.”

“Is that unusual?” said Harry.

“Why?” They all stared at him.

“Because I can do it.” He blinked when everyone’s eyes got very big. “Yeah, I, er… I set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once.”

Draco gave a shout of laughter. “How old were you?” he asked in glee.

“Ten. What? He pushed me! Guys - why are you laughing?” said Harry, exasperated.

“You, Potter,” said Pansy in high amusement, “just became totally awesome. Yeah, to answer your question, it’s a really rare ability and the mark of an extremely powerful wizard.”

“People also say it’s a mark of Darkness,” Blaise added, “but like with the Slytherin reputation, that’s bullshit. Power is neutral until you do something with it, which is why the Muggle Christian painting of witches as Satanic was so weird - Satan was blessed with divine power and any divine being can do anything they choose to with that power. Satan just chose to be evil. On the point of Christianity, Saint Patrick himself was a Parselmouth - that’s what they call snake speak, Parseltongue.”

“Yeah, but Parseltongue still has a reputation, so don’t worry. Your little skill doesn’t get beyond our house. Slytherins can keep their mouths shut,” said Pansy, nodding and winking.

“You know who was also a Parselmouth,” said Draco suddenly.

“Oh, God, Draco -” Daphne began, rolling her eyes.

“The Dark Lord,” said Draco intently, and Harry got a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Do you have any other connection to him?”

Everyone was now looking at Harry intently.

“... Yes,” said Harry shortly, turning to his plate, displeased. “Our wand cores come from the same phoenix - the only two who do. My wand was paired with holly, an emotional, volatile wood whereas phoenix feather is really remote and independent. It’s supposed to be this insane combination.”

“Then the rumors are true,” said Theodore suddenly. “You are the next him.”

“No,” said Harry, eyes flashing. “I’m not.”

“Potter, if this is some stupid political idealism -” Draco began, exasperated.

“I can remember him killing my mother.” The single, icy sentence had the entire table in dead silence. “Just so you know, she was screaming and he was laughing.”

“... Tone deaf, Draco,” said Daphne, putting her face in her hand. “Completely tone deaf.”

“But let’s talk about political idealism,” said Harry, increasingly angry, to Draco’s suddenly pale face. “You tell me You Know Who’s political stance and I’ll poke lots of holes in it! Doesn’t that sound like a fun game?”

Draco swallowed as he realized Harry wasn’t letting him off the hook. Harry could feel some weird fire burning inside him. Draco licked his lips. “O… okay,” he said cautiously. “He believed in going back to the Old Ways - eliminating everyone wasn’t all magical.”

“And he used violence to do it,” Harry finished.

“Potter, are you actually a pacifist?” said Draco disbelievingly.

“No, Draco, I think that’s just a really dumb way of getting what you want,” said Harry acidically. “Think about it. So you have an issue with non magical people interfering with your culture. For one thing, why don’t you then teach the people coming into your culture about your culture? Instead of killing them and wasting valuable magical ability and brainpower? For another, why would you go out and actively try to kill Muggles who know nothing about your culture? Wouldn’t that waste supposedly valuable wizarding lives, and significantly cut down on the ability to use Muggle culture to wizarding advantage?

“And taking over the country by force? Really? He never thought there might be a more politically savvy way of getting what he wanted that wouldn’t end up alienating pretty much everybody?

“And, what, you’re telling me people with magic don’t deserve a fighting chance in the wizarding world? You think they fit in where they were born in the Muggle world? You think they can control who their family is? Because I’m from Muggles, and I can tell you - none of that’s the case!”

“Not unless Muggleborns stole their magic,” Draco sneered.

“That,” said Harry fervently, “is the single stupidest, most blatantly obvious piece of political propaganda I have ever heard.”

A long silence followed this little speech. Harry was still more stoical and irritated than outright infuriated. He was getting a few glares, but he continued chewing.

“... Well,” said Blaise at last, “I’m sold. Anyone who can talk down a Malfoy on Purebloodism has my vote.”

“So am I,” said Theodore. “What?” he added when people stared. “They’re good points. It’s a better system. Get behind the past if you want to, but I’m hopping on the train to the future.”

“My family is a bit Lighter than the rest, so I was behind it from go,” said Daphne, smiling in actually quite a friendly way.

“Hmm. I sense battle lines being drawn,” said a larger, heavily jowled girl with interest. She grinned, mostly teasing. “Me and Pansy with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle on one side. You guys on the other.”

“Fine by us,” said Daphne gamely. Blaise lifted his chin defiantly, sneering silently. Theodore acted like none of it bothered him or worried him in the slightest and continued eating silently.

Harry realized he had by now formed two friends groups. In Slytherin, he had Blaise, Theodore, and Daphne. In Ravenclaw, he had Padma and Hermione.

As the two groups diverged and Harry turned to his new friends, Theodore added, “It’s Theo. Just so you know.” He made a face. “Anyone who names their child Theodore should be jailed for child abuse.”

“You should say that to his face,” said Blaise, grinning. “Dark wizard and all.”

“I would,” said Theo contemptuously. “It’s not like my father particularly has a spine. Oh, and just so you know, Harry - Blaise is the only child of the infamous Black Widow.”

“She kills her husbands. Poisons them.” Blaise shrugged. “If you tell anyone of importance, I’ll just have you murdered.” He said it fairly casually.

“I believe you,” Harry admitted, skeptical but calm.

At last, dessert faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and the hall fell silent.

Daphne leaned over. “Just so you know,” she whispered, “he’s radical Light, won’t compromise on anything, and he irrationally hates all Slytherins, including the Light ones.”

“He’s also really eccentric and totally brilliant,” Blaise added. “Kind of manipulative. Very powerful. Seems dotty and cheerful on the surface.”

“So exercise caution,” Theo finished seriously.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “... Understood,” he said.

Dumbledore had begun to speak to the collected students. More serious now, he gave out several start of term notices. The forest on the grounds was forbidden to all students. (“Dangerous magical creatures sanctuary,” Daphne supplied.) The caretaker, Mr Filch, wished for no magic to be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials would be held in the second week of term, one team per house, led by Madam Hooch and only for those above first year. (“Second week is when extracurriculars start.”) And finally, confusingly, this year the third floor corridor on the right hand side was out of bounds “to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

Welcome to Hogwarts, apparently.

Then they sang the school song, which was quite frankly ridiculous, and they all were commanded by Dumbledore to be off to bed. 

A thousand students stood up with the screeching of chairs and all began to be flooded toward the big double doors out into the entrance hall. “First years!” Gemma stumbled her way over to them. “Come with me! Harry, you’ll see the Slytherin commons first. Then I’ll take you back to the entrance hall and Robert will take you up to Ravenclaw for your first three days there. One quick rule - don’t tell one house what the other house is like.”

“Understood,” said Harry, nodding. 

“Alright. This way!” They followed Gemma through the crowds out into the entrance hall. But instead of going up the sweeping marble staircase, they went down some stone steps, past the basement and into the damp and cool stone dungeons. Water dripped quietly somewhere. It was dark but for the flaming torches on the walls. They passed countless real dungeons complete with hanging old black chains and manacles, before finally coming to a stop at a blank stretch of stone wall just like any other.

“Evalesco,” said Gemma. “Latin for ‘those in power’,” she added back over her shoulder.

The stone wall slid aside and they entered the Slytherin common room.

The Slytherin Dungeon was a long, low underground stone room lit with green glowing lamps hanging on chains. The windows, which showed a view of the underwater lake, also gave the dark room a greenish glow, and even many of the chairs and cushions were green tufted cloth. There was an elaborately carved mantel piece with a crackling fire ahead of them, around which several carved chairs were drawn, and the mantel piece had a carving of a snake on it with gleaming jade eyes. Much of the other furniture, Harry saw, was low set black leather. All surfaces were dark wood, and there was a strong skull theme. Chess sets littered the common room. Tapestries depicting famous medieval Slytherins hung on the walls.

Harry walked up to a window and looked out through it to the lake. “We like to pretend we live in a sort of darkly romantic underwater shipwreck,” Gemma commented, as other students also began going to the windows.

Harry watched in awe, strangely soothed by the darkness and softly glowing green, as a squid the size of a house floated serenely past in the bubbling water. He looked down near his feet and saw a little water demon hiding, brandishing claws, in some weed coming up from the dark pebble and shell bottom of the lake. Then he looked up, and gasped. 

Floating in front of him was a mermaid, but not a Disney one by any means. She had green hair like seaweed, yellow eyes, grey skin, and a long silvery tail. She was taller than him, by several feet, taller even than any human he had ever seen besides Hagrid - and in spite of her fierce, cold appearance, she was elegant.

She gave Harry a single, respectful nod, and then swam off into the murky gloom of the underwater lake.

“They’ve heard of your coming,” said Draco quietly, watching Harry. “They’ve heard Harry Potter is coming.” He sounded oddly respectful.

Gemma at last led them through a far door into the dormitories. Down a corridor the boys went, to the door labeled “First Years” with a plaque. Inside was a large, round room with several four poster beds and more windows looking out into the lake. The hangings were green silk, the bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. More medieval tapestries of famous Slytherins hung on the walls, and this time the lamps on chains were a soft silver, filling the dim room with very faint silvery light. The water of the lake lapped against the windows and already Harry felt drowsy.

“Potter,” Draco reminded him seriously, “your stuff’s not here. You’re wanted elsewhere.” He waved a sarcastic hand.

“See you later, man,” said Blaise, and Theo gave him a nod as Harry left. He went back down the corridor and Gemma met him, leading him back through the Slytherin Dungeon, up the steps and into the entrance hall with its sweeping marble staircase.

“See you on Thursday,” she told Harry, winking, and Harry followed Robert up the sweeping marble staircase to the Ravenclaw commons.

“So what do you think of the two houses and their differences?” Robert asked curiously as they climbed.

“I think each is good in a different way,” said Harry simply. Then he added fervently, “And I’ll be glad to get to my bed.” 

Robert laughed softly. “This is the only time you’ll have to do this,” he confirmed. “The whole two houses in one night thing.”

Now Harry got to see Hogwarts castle itself. They climbed up staircases, crossed through corridors. There were tapestries and moving whispering portraits along the walls, intermingled with statues and suits of armor. Even the suits of armor seemed to whisper as they passed. The castle was full of color and weirdly alive. Twice they went through sliding panels or hidden passageways behind tapestries. Once they jumped over one of the steps, which apparently wasn’t actually there at all.

“Hogwarts is a maze,” said Harry, impressed.

“Yes, well, it had to be, didn’t it?” said Robert seriously. “When wizards separated from Muggles, it was because of prejudice in the witch hunts. Hogwarts was built during that crucial time. This isn’t the only way Hogwarts was heavily magically fortified in case of an attack.”

“Is that where the prejudice against Muggle ways comes from?” said Harry curiously.

“Yes,” Robert admitted, slightly uncomfortable, “that is a lot of it. We still have mixed feelings.”

They had crossed the corridor from what had to be the vast school library… to a spiraling stone staircase built into the far wall. They climbed that staircase and came up to a door at the top. It had a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.

The knocker suddenly moved and spoke in a silvery female voice. “You will always find me in the past. I can be created in the present. But the future can never taint me. What am I?”

This had to be the riddle. Harry expected Robert to answer it, but Robert turned curiously to Harry. “Harry. Why don’t you give it a go?”

That was when Harry remembered that in their own way, Ravenclaws proved just as much a challenge as Slytherins. They were simply kinder, politer, more quirky and intellectual about it.

“Found in the past… created in the present…” Harry thought for a while, trying to get his tired mind to focus. “Well, the past is also known as history… Wait.” He looked up. “Found in the past, but created right now. And it has no place in the future. That’s the answer to the riddle. The answer is history!”

“Well reasoned,” said the silvery female voice, and Harry felt a kind of triumph he decided he liked as Robert smiled and the door swung open to allow them through.

As they entered, Harry decided Ravenclaw must be in the tallest tower. Fitting, in a way - Slytherin Dungeon being in the deepest dungeon and Ravenclaw Tower being in the tallest tower. 

The Ravenclaw common room was a large, circular, airy room. Its arched windows were hung with bluish-purple and bronze silks and its midnight blue carpet was covered in stars, which were reflected also in the painted domed ceiling. The fireplace was a wood-burning stove, quite cozy and surrounded by little purplish-blue cushions and moving paintings of various inventors from history. Elegant lounging tables and chairs straight out of some eighteenth century French lounge area were littered across the room, all in deep blue, and set into one wall was a ceiling to floor enclosure filled with a magnificent collection of books, almost like its own mini library.

“Can I read these?” Harry asked, pointing. 

Robert seemed pleased by the question. “You can’t lend them out to someone who isn’t a Ravenclaw, but yes. You check out a book with the sheet on the notice board. This was Rowena Ravenclaw’s personal collection, donated to her house. And that is her.” 

He pointed at an elegant white marble statue of a tall, beautiful woman in medieval dress with a proud little smile on her face. She stood by a door across the room from Harry.

“So Salazar Slytherin the Parselmouth was a man… but Rowena Ravenclaw of this library was a woman?” said Harry curiously.

“There is no difference in magical ability between women and men, Harry,” said Robert, gently but sternly. “And neither is there between the races or the sexualities. We’re quite used to prejudice as wizards and witches ourselves.”

“Well, yeah, but I assumed - that would completely change the course of history,” Harry breathed, realizing this last part to himself.

“And it did,” said Robert. “Care to check out the view? It’s even better in the daylight.”

Harry walked up to one of the silk curtained windows and looked out. He saw a magnificent, sweeping view of clear skies and surrounding green mountains. All of Hogwarts grounds was laid out below him, from forest and lake to Quidditch pitch and greenhouses. “Wow,” he whispered, feeling for a moment like he truly could fly.

Through the door beside Rowena, up a staircase and down another corridor, through another plaqued door, he found his bed at last. His things had already been brought up and set neatly next to one of the four poster beds in this vast, round, windowed room full of already sleeping Ravenclaw boys. These beds had sky blue silk eiderdowns - again there was silk, another similarity to Slytherin.

Figuring his snowy owl Hedwig was already in the school Owlery, Harry pulled some pajamas out from his remaining trunk. He put them on and fell into bed in the dark and the quiet, tucking the holly and phoenix feather wand safely underneath his pillow.

The soft sound of whistling wind about the windows lulled him, pulling him into a warm sleep. That sound cradled him uninterrupted throughout his entire first night in the grand, medieval, magical Hogwarts castle.

His first three upcoming school days would be spent as a Ravenclaw, the remaining two as a Slytherin. And he would try - somehow - to make up with Hagrid and Ron.

-

“How, in the midst of all this sorrow,

Can so much hope and love endure?

I was innocent and certain.

Now I’m wiser but unsure…

I can’t go back into my childhood,

One that my father made secure.

I can feel a change in me.

I’m stronger now, but still not free…”

\- “Days in the Sun” from Beauty and the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opinions reflected in this chapter do not represent the author's actual views.


	3. Chapter 3

“Ron! RON!” Harry was in a corridor at Hogwarts the next morning. He ran up behind Ron, who was easy to see from the back through the crowds with his tall, thin stature and reddish-orange hair. As people had been staring at Harry all morning, they especially stared seeing him run up to a Gryffindor and rather desperately call his name.

Harry tried to ignore this, and also tried to ignore Hermione’s and Padma’s despairing calls after him. It was plain neither of them thought this was a good idea.

Ron had been standing with a Black boy and a sandy-haired boy, both of them fellow Gryffindors. He paused at Harry’s call but didn’t turn around.

“Ron,” said Harry, trying to catch his breath, “hi. Can - can we talk?” Despite himself, he was nervous.

Ron at last turned around. He looked cautious. “About what?” he asked, a strange flatness in his voice.

“About what -? I -” Harry looked around. They were making a huge scene in the middle of the corridor full of staring people. He tried to pull Ron aside, but Ron wouldn’t move with him. “I thought we were friends,” said Harry quietly, hurt.

“I don’t make it a habit of befriending Slytherins,” said Ron.

“But Ron, it’s me! We’re not all bad! I -”

“Harry, I saw you talking with Malfoy,” said Ron heatedly. “I can see easily whose side you chose!”

“Ron, it wasn’t like that! Have you totally forgotten absolutely everything we talked about on the Express? Every time I was nice to you?”

“Look, just - leave me alone, okay?” said Ron awkwardly, looking around, and he hurried off with his two new Gryffindor friends.

Several first year Slytherins had been passing as all this happened. They weren’t in Harry’s inner clique, but they still saw the hurt on Harry’s face and cold sneers came onto their faces. Draco stuck out his foot and purposefully tripped Ron.

Harry’s eyes closed as Ron fell on his face and his books went everywhere.

“Careful, Weasley,” said Draco scathingly. “Don’t go tripping over your own stupidity everywhere you happen to step.”

Ron got very red, stumbled to his feet, and hurried off. Draco and his clique moved off smoothly in the opposite direction.

Harry stared at the spot where it had all happened and wondered when exactly things had gone so badly wrong.

Hermione and Padma were on either side of him. “Harry - come on,” said Hermione gently, and Padma pulled him firmly and mercilessly in the forward direction. 

“Let’s think about something else,” said Padma. “Like what extracurriculars you two will be doing.”

“Extracurriculars?” Harry looked up, caught off guard.

“Exactly,” said Padma. “For most things, we sign up this week and they start next week. So what will you two be doing?”

“Well, I was thinking of joining the book club…” said Hermione with hesitant curiosity, “the one posted about on the notice board in the Ravenclaw common room? Harry, you should join with me!”

“I… I don’t know…” said Harry hesitantly, “I’m not like you, capable of memorizing heavy tomes over a single summer.”

“It’s not like that,” said Hermione. “Well, not all of it. There are actually several clubs, and each one has a theme. I was going to join two - advanced nonfiction and wizarding fairy tales. See?” She handed over the list of possible club themes. “I was thinking you could join a different theme and we could recommend books to each other.”

“Maybe…” Harry looked thoughtfully over the list. “You know, all my Slytherin friends are obsessed with chess club and gaming, and that doesn’t really sound like my thing. But some of this isn’t bad. Socially based fiction. What’s that?”

“That would be any kind of fiction that deals with a bigger subject having to do with politics or society,” said Hermione. “So it does introduce new ideas, but in a fictional, sometimes fantastical creative way.”

“... I could try it,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Give it a shot and see what I think.” He was rewarded with a thrilled beam from Hermione.

“What interests do you have of your own, Harry?” Padma asked curiously.

“Not really any,” said Harry honestly, thinking about it. “I had… kind of a weird upbringing. Magic fearing relatives, no money. Most of my life was based around survival.”

“That sounds awful,” said Padma, wrinkling her nose. “Alright, then since your Slytherin friends have recommended something and so has Hermione, why don’t I recommend something as well? I’m taking music. I’m in choir, but I’m guessing that doesn’t sound like your thing,” she added mischievously.

“You would guess right,” said Harry.

“Well then. Flitwick runs the entire Hogwarts music department, which means the department is filled with Ravenclaws. Kind of like how Slytherins run the chess club. He has this series where he lets you take lessons with a Pensieve - which is a kind of memory bowl, in this case preserved with hundreds of music lesson memories. Students sit in empty classrooms and learn from the Pensieve memories floating up from the bowls before them, the memories shining in this really dark, empty room. It’s kind of cool. You could try that. He has almost everything.”

“... Guitar and singing might not be terrible,” Harry decided at last. “Though I’d have to owl mail order a guitar.”

“He has a similar program with art,” Padma added. “You seem like a cartooning sort of guy to me.”

“That’s four days of the after school week filled, Harry,” said Hermione. “What about the fifth? Each club would only take out about an hour a day. It would be weird to take a day off.”

“Well… I don’t know good of a chess player I’ll be, but I’d be shorting out my Slytherin friends if I didn’t give them a shot,” said Harry dryly. “So wizard’s chess it is.”

“You never know, Harry,” said Hermione. “Sometimes the unconventional strategists are the most interesting ones.”

So Harry signed up for all after school activities on the Ravenclaw notice board in the common room. Then he wrote out a letter and filled a bag with the necessary funds to buy a new guitar, a new wizard’s chess set, and his new required books and drawing implements. Seemingly the only thing he already had, he thought with some amount of despair looking over all the papers in front of him, was his voice.

As he was across the castle to send it all off at the Owlery - and say hello to Hedwig - he passed Daphne, Blaise, and Theo in the halls. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Theo called after him. They had looked curious as Harry rushed past.

“I’m signing up for like five extracurriculars. Somehow the two Ravenclaw girls I’m friends with snuck me into it.”

“That figures,” said Blaise, grinning. “Please tell me one of them is wizard’s chess?”

“They have good hearts. And yes, it is,” said Harry. He laughed as Blaise pumped his fists. “I’m also taking guitar, singing, cartoon-style drawing and graphic art, and some book club themed around socially based fiction.”

“Whatever that is,” said Daphne frankly. “Good luck! Oh.” She smiled. “And Harry? There are some people here to see you?”

Harry turned around and paused in surprise. Hagrid and the Weasley twins were all standing there - and it didn’t seem the two groups were together.

“Fred, George,” said Harry first, puzzled, and cautious after Ron. “What are you doing here?”

“Harry, we’d like to apologize for our dear younger brother,” said George.

“He doesn’t share our vision,” said Fred. “As pragmatists, we’d like to give you a fighting chance.”

“To cause mischief and mayhem, of course,” added George. 

“Percy is very busy with Important Prefect Things, but he assures us he sends his regards,” added Fred with clear distaste.

Harry laughed. “Thanks, you guys,” he said. “That means a lot. Of course, I accept.”

“Ron has youngest son syndrome, Harry,” said Fred with surprising frankness. “Give him some time.”

“Yes, we realize he’s a total prat, but he’s a total prat who is also a first year misguidedly trying to do the right thing,” said George.

Harry swallowed. “I… I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded.

“No problem,” said George.

As the twins moved past him, Fred winked. “You want to know something? Our younger sister would never have forgiven us if we’d completely driven you off.” He gave Harry a bracing pat on the shoulder as they left and returned to their friend Lee Jordan.

Harry smiled, oddly touched.

Hagrid had shuffled up, looking uncertain, which should have been impossible with his sheer size. “Come on, Hagrid,” said Harry, despairing. “Do cheer up. I’m not suddenly going to attack you!”

Hagrid paused - and then smiled. “Ah, come here.” He gave Harry a sheepish rub on the head. “I was worried about you, you know,” he added. “But you seem to have… made some good friends and you seem to have a good head on your shoulders,” he admitted.

“They’re not as bad as you think, you know, Hagrid,” said Harry frankly. “They’re just… not Gryffindors.”

“... Well. I’ll never understand it,” said Hagrid, bewildered. “But that’s alright. Don’t you change yourself for anyone, Harry, and I’m sure you’ll be just fine.

“Now - I’ll see you soon - go post those letters. They look important.”

So as Harry hurried off, happier, he realized it was only Ron he had lost. Unfortunately, that might just have been the most painful loss of all. Still, as the week wore on, even his soon to come extracurriculars fell out of his mind.

Ron had only filled one afternoon, and meanwhile there was his first week at Hogwarts to get used to.


	4. Chapter 4

Whispers and staring followed Harry all around school that first week. When he was with his Ravenclaw friends, they got the stares as well; when he was with his Slytherin friends, it was the same thing. No matter what house affiliation he was, people couldn’t seem to get enough of staring at him and whispering about him. Students would stand on tiptoe lining up outside classrooms to see him better, or would double back to pass him again in the corridors, staring.

Mostly, Harry found the whole thing exasperating and distracting. He was trying to concentrate on finding his way to his classes.

There were a hundred and forty two staircases at Hogwarts. Wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were the doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked them nicely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and the doors that weren’t really doors at all, but were instead solid walls just pretending.

It was also very hard to remember where anything was because it all seemed to move around a lot. People in the portraits kept going to visit each other. It was just as distracting hearing suits of armor whispering behind you - then whirling around and having them suddenly become quite still again. The ghosts who glided suddenly through doors you were trying to open were also sometimes a dreadful shock. And it took Harry several days to get used to standing and thinking about a question for five minutes, a crowd gathering around him, every time he wanted to get into the Ravenclaw common room.

His saving grace ended up being his houses. He did meet a lot of new people at the entrance to the Ravenclaw commons, and some older students even gave him some handy tips for riddle solving. Ravenclaws all tried to figure out the door riddles together. And the Grey Lady would sweep along with the first year Ravenclaws for the first week, guiding them from place to place. Sure enough, they were the only people she would speak to.

The Slytherins were just as incredible. The Slytherin first years moved for the first week in a tight, single group formation, and every older Slytherin they passed would unfailingly point them in the next right direction, warning them of upcoming obstacles. Peeves the Poltergeist, a floating little man with wicked dark eyes and a penchant for nasty mischief, also never bothered the Slytherins, Harry, or any of the Ravenclaws who happened to be around Harry - the Bloody Baron made his presence known for the first years in a more silent way.

All this meant that the grumpy old caretaker, Argus Filch, and his cat Mrs Norris with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like his, had little reason to find Harry and suspect him of any rule breaking that first week. He got to his classes quickly and on time, never fell for any traps or obstacles, and unlike the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs he and his friends were never yelled at by Filch.

It was also wonderful getting used to both common rooms and both sets of dormitories in that first week. Each house was great in its own way, and Harry learned the names of all the new first years in both his houses. In Slytherin, the heavily jowled girl turned out to be Millicent Bulstrode. In Ravenclaw, Harry’s male dorm mates were Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot. The other Ravenclaw girls were Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Sue Li.

Then, once everything else was covered and the classrooms were found, there were the classes themselves. Magical training was, as Harry had supposed, heavily intensive.

He had both of his houses to back him up. Slytherins focused on practicality and power while Ravenclaws focused on learning and expertise, so between the two houses he got all the support he needed. Hermione was particularly helpful, assisting him with scheduling and study tips, studying with him and helping him with his wand based and potion brewing skills before classes. Harry learned what to memorize, how to plan ahead, and how to master certain skills before walking into the classroom.

It was hard measuring up to what his two houses expected of him, but he was determined to do it and the work he put in started paying off remarkably quickly.

They studied the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight at the top of the Astronomy Tower, and had to learn the names of the stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week, they went out to the greenhouses to study Herbology with a plump little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. 

History of Magic was taught by an extremely dull ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire one night and woke up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Some students whispered that he didn’t even know he was dead, though Harry wasn’t sure, as Binns entered the classroom through the blackboard every morning instead of through the classroom door. This was the most exciting part of History lessons. Harry took Hermione and the Ravenclaws’ advice and wore a rubber band he regularly snapped himself with to keep himself awake and alive during Binns’ droning lectures. The school History textbook seemed highly biased and heavily modified; Harry suspected government intervention.

Professor Flitwick was indeed easy to underestimate. Standing on his pile of books to see over his desk, he started out class by taking role call and when he reached Harry’s name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Harry was positively alarmed, but Flitwick seemed to be alright and a bit embarrassed by the class snickering. His class turned out to be a lot of fun. He made theory lectures interactive and then gave them a magic exercise and some free time so they could play with their wands a bit. When Harry raised his hand, Flitwick seemed thrilled and hurried over.

“Yes, Mr Potter?” he squeaked.

Harry’s friends and even house Prefects had been encouraging him to ask every question he could think of, so he said, “What exactly is the difference between Charms and Transfiguration? Sorry, I don’t meant to be offensive, but -”

“No, that’s quite alright, Mr Potter, that’s a very good question!” said Flitwick. He called the class’s attention and explained that Charms changed the properties of a thing, while Transfiguration turned the thing itself into something else. Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense (any kind of offensive magic) were the main three types of wand-based magic taught at Hogwarts, and the only ones everyone took.

Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, was again different. Harry had been quite right in thinking she wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking to the moment they sat down in her first class.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will be learning at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she changed her desk into her pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon learned they wouldn’t be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. They took a lot of complex theory notes and then were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

Here, Harry’s previous practice came in handy. Like Hermione and several other Ravenclaws, he managed to make his match silver and pointy, and McGonagall seemed unusually pleased with each of them. In fact, this was standard in all Harry’s first classes - he did very well, answering questions correctly and performing some correct magic, but so did many others around him. He had a certain level he had to reach in Ravenclaw and Slytherin. But whereas Ravenclaws turned learning into a fun competition, Slytherins unfailingly supported one another - each the opposite of how they treated outsiders.

Harry got points every time he did something right, and he ate them up like sweets. Points, it turned out, were allocated to both of his houses equally. So each time he got something right, both Slytherin and Ravenclaw each got the same number of points allocated by the teacher. The big hourglasses in the entrance hall changed - Slytherin’s hourglass got a certain number of emeralds and Ravenclaw’s hourglass got a certain number of sapphires. A couple of times, he and his house even got points simply for arriving on time to class when the previous class hadn’t.

Quirrell’s class left Harry skeptical in many ways. He boasted grand stories but seemed timid and embarrassed when asked of the details, stuttered nervously through all his lectures, seemed terrified of pretty much everything, and his classroom and turban smelled terribly of garlic - school rumor insisted he was frightened of vampires. Quirrell claimed he got his turban as a thank you from an African prince for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but it was a mark of his school reputation that no one really believed him. Apparently he was a new teacher and had previously been teaching Muggle studies. He’d taken a year off to travel and only school rumor seemed to know what had happened during that trip, but he’d come back straight terrified of everything.

Still, he was a good enough teacher. He played it safe and standard, but they did both theory and textbook reading as well as conventional practice. They started out making sparks, knocking each other back a few feet - that kind of thing.

On Friday, Harry was a Slytherin. He sat with each table on their assigned days during non-feasts, so he was at the Slytherin table having breakfast that morning. “What are we having today?” Harry asked his friends as he poured sugar on his porridge.

“Double Potions with the Gryffindors. Gemma insists watching Snape with Gryffindors is hilarious, so we lucked out,” said Blaise, looking up from his porridge and grinning.

“Hm. Neville and Hermione will be in that class,” said Harry thoughtfully.

“Careful. All three Hatstalls in one place. The whole castle might explode,” said Daphne. Theo nearly choked on his porridge trying not to laugh.

“Somehow we’ll have to soldier on and risk it,” said Harry dryly.

Just then, the mail soared and swooped in. Hundreds of owls flooded the Great Hall at once through the high windows. They circled the tables until they saw their owners, and dropped letters and packages onto their laps. Harry had gotten a nasty shock from this first morning as a Ravenclaw, but by now he was used to it.

“Nothing for me,” he said dismissively, turning back. “I got all my materials yesterday.”

“Yeah, including the guitar. It took like eight owls. You do realize everyone was staring at you, right?” said Blaise frankly.

“Oh God,” said Harry, deadpan. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, come on, Blaise, everyone’s staring at him anyway,” said Theo dismissively.

Harry sighed. “... Thanks, Theo.”

“You spoke too soon, Harry,” said Daphne in surprise, as Hedwig fluttered down in front of Harry’s plate and dropped a letter in front of him. He rubbed at her head and she nibbled his finger affectionately as he took up the note in surprise.

It read, in Hagrid’s untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you and all your new friends like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week and I want to meet your new friends. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

“That’s surprisingly diplomatic of him,” Harry said in surprise, “wanting to meet a bunch of non-Gryffindors. You guys want to meet Hagrid and my Ravenclaw friends?”

“Sure,” said Blaise curiously. “I always heard Hagrid was just the alcoholic groundskeeper, but if you like him, I’m interested.”

“Besides, you’re always talking about Padma and Hermione to us and we haven’t even seen them,” said Daphne.

“That means yes,” Theo interpreted bluntly.

Harry stood and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, approaching Padma and then Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Both agreed that tea with Hagrid at three sounded wonderful, as did meeting Harry’s Slytherin friends, and they’d all meet up in the entrance hall at two-thirty. 

So Harry wrote on the back of the note, “Yes, please, see you then,” with the first quill he found in his mess of a book bag. Then he sent Hedwig off again.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. The walls were lined with colorful vials of potions and pickled animal and plant parts in glass jars. They were bubbling work tables with fire pits fit for two people and a cauldron, but in front of that were long rows of desks and a blackboard for more lecture-style work. Harry and his friends sat there in the coolness and the dim. Hermione took the seat beside Harry not taken up by Slytherins.

Snape was soft-spoken but cold, deadly, and dangerous - like Professor McGonagall, he had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort, and as he took role call everyone sat in intimidated silence. Snape paused at Harry’s name - but then called it as normal and pressed on.

After role call, he gave a quiet little speech praising the “subtle science and exact art of potion-making” with its lack of “foolish wand-waving.” He promised that potions could do incredible things - creep through veins, bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses, bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. He ended with a scathing, “If you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

The Slytherins looked impressed; the Gryffindors gaped; Neville looked terrified and Hermione was eager on the edge of her seat. Harry was somewhere between the Slytherins and Hermione. Snape would be a hard teacher to please, and in a weird sort of way he could actually respect that. He was a bit skeptical of the drama, but perhaps it was standard for Snape to try to frighten new first years.

“Potter!” Snape suddenly barked, and then he began asking Harry a series of complicated questions, completely ignoring everyone else, including Hermione with her hand raised. Harry, who’d had help memorizing the textbook introduction and its important parts from Hermione, answered question after question quietly and calmly. He must have answered right, because finally Snape stared at him, unreadable.

“Do you think you’re better than everybody else, Potter?” he asked quietly at last.

That was what he was doing, Harry realized. Snape wanted to see if Harry was an arrogant, attention-seeking celebrity prat. He wanted to see who his new student was.

“No, sir,” said Harry. “I’m just doing my best. You asked the questions and I answered.”

He looked calmly at Snape, who stared piercingly at him. “... Very well,” Snape said. “All those answers were correct, and your final response was a fair one. Five points to both of your houses.”

And he swept away, beginning the note-taking part of his class session. He did not look at or bother Harry again, either in a positive or a negative way. But everyone looked very impressed, for Neville and the Gryffindors even intimidated. Harry got the suspicious feeling Snape did not give away five points in a first session very often.

They were finally put into pairs and set to mixing a simple potion to cure boils out at the workstations. Harry was paired with Blaise, Theo with Daphne, and Hermione with a Gryffindor who was not Neville or Ron. But she was near Harry, so he and all his friends talked as they worked on potion-brewing together in the quiet chatter.

“These are your friends, Potter?”

Harry looked around. Snape was standing there, looking reserved.

“Yes, sir, sorry,” said Harry quickly. “We were working on our potions -”

“I can see that,” said Snape flatly. “I have eyes. Miss Granger is a Hatstall with Ravenclaw, is she not?”

“Yes, sir, I am,” said Hermione.

“That explains the telling lack of obnoxiousness and actual skill in potion brewing,” said Snape. Nearby, Draco snickered. Hermione seemed confused and embarrassed but pleased all the same. “Well, all of your friends are fittingly, Potter, skilled at Potions. Miss Padma Patil is your friend as well, yes?” he asked softly.

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, not sure where this was going.

Snape nodded. “She was impressive - as are you.” He walked over to the potion and looked down. “Good color, fair consistency,” he said. “Don’t make any big mistakes.” And he walked off.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry called after him, bewildered. Snape merely swept away in his long black cloak.

“It means you and your friends are protected,” Draco interpreted. “I’m his godson, so me and my friends are as well.”

“Protected from what?” Harry asked. Suddenly, the sound of Snape snapping at some poor, hapless Gryffindor came from another part of the classroom. Harry could hear Snape calling them an idiot.

“From that,” said Draco, and he went back to the potion he was brewing with Pansy.

Snape was indeed harsh toward everyone not under specific “protection.” But nothing really untoward happened until suddenly a loud hissing sound filled the dungeon, accompanied by clouds of acid green smoke. Neville had somehow found a way to burn Seamus Finnigan’s cauldron into a blob which was now moving along the floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. In seconds, everyone in the class was standing on their stools.

Neville, who had gotten splashed by the potion, began to whine and whimper as angry red boils sprang up all over his nose and Snape began yelling at him. Harry rolled his eyes. Yes, he did feel sorry for Neville - but really?

Snape cleared away the potion with one wave of his wand, commanded Seamus Finnigan to take Neville to the hospital wing, and muttered something about hating first year classes. With that fiasco, Potions was over.

Harry, Hermione, Blaise, Daphne, and Theo all climbed the steps out of the dungeons, still talking about this little end of the week excitement. They met Padma and filled her in at the entrance hall. “I’ve heard Longbottom’s terrified of flying, too,” she said without much malice or sympathy. “He’s prone to so many accidents his grandmother has never let him near a broom.”

“And we have him in a practical magic based class,” Blaise muttered. “Great. That’s very reassuring.”

They all left through the great double doors toward Hagrid’s hut on the grounds. Now was the moment when Hagrid would meet Harry’s friends - and all Harry’s friends would meet each other. Harry hoped it all went well.

Unbeknownst to Harry, he would also of course get an interesting piece of information at Hagrid’s that he wasn’t expecting.


	5. Chapter 5

Hagrid lived in a hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes sat by the front door. 

When they all walked up and Harry knocked, they immediately heard a scrabbling and several booming barks. Then Hagrid’s voice: “Back, Fang, back!” A crack appeared in the doorway with Hagrid’s big, hairy face. “Hold on -” he panted. “BACK, Fang!”

They entered and found Hagrid holding the collar of an enormous black boarhound. He let it go and it immediately leaped at Blaise, who yelped and put his hands up in an extremely undignified manner - but all Fang did was start licking his ears. Like his owner, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

“... Shut up,” an embarrassed Blaise muttered to his friends as they all snickered.

Hagrid’s hut was warm, filled with wood, bronze, and shining copper. Hams and pheasants were strung from the ceiling, the enormous chairs were patchwork, and a cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace which had a teakettle hung above it. The whole place was one room, with a massive quilted bed in one corner and a tiny kitchenette in another. Out the back windows was a vegetable garden, a fence, and then the Forest itself with its deep shadows and green trees and dirt trails.

Everyone sat down and Hagrid fed them all tea and rock cakes that nearly broke their teeth. They stayed away from the rock cakes, but the tea was good - strong, warm, and filling. They all started talking.

“Hagrid, this is Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger, and Padma Patil,” said Harry, pointing at each of them as he spoke. “Everyone, this is Rubeus Hagrid. He saved me from my horrible Muggle relatives and helped bring me here.”

Hagrid looked at Theo and Blaise intently for a long moment.

“... You’re wondering,” said Theo quietly, “with our families and our housing, what we’re doing with two Light witches, a Muggleborn, and Harry Potter, sitting in a former Gryffindor’s house.”

“... Yeah, I kind of was,” Hagrid admitted in a hard voice.

“Harry swayed us on the first night,” said Blaise, petting Fang’s head gingerly even as the dog drooled on his knee. But when he looked up, he was his usual confident, suave self. He told Hagrid about Harry’s argument with Draco Malfoy on the night of the opening feast. “It was quite remarkable,” Blaise finished calmly, “the first argument I’d ever heard against the Darker way of doing things that made logical sense.”

“We’re of the personal opinion that Harry will grow to become not only powerful but vastly intelligent,” Theo said expressionlessly. “And as Slytherins, we’re getting behind that. I meant what I said on the night of - Harry’s way of thinking makes more sense to me, and to Daphne.”

“Here, here,” said Daphne, smiling.

Hagrid had slowly swelled and was beaming with pride. “Well,” he said, “looks like our Harry is changing more than a few things, isn’t he?”

Harry smiled with pleased embarrassment at the floor.

Hermione looked very impressed. “It’s a good argument, Harry,” she said. “I honestly can’t think of a Muggleborn who wouldn’t welcome the chance to fit in better with wizarding culture.”

“Does that include you?” Blaise asked curiously, his eyes sharp.

“It applies especially to me,” said Hermione frostily. “It’s why I’ve been reading so many books. For all I knew, it was the only way I’d ever understand anything.”

“You can’t get it all from books,” said Theo skeptically. “How much did you even retain?”

“Oh, you don’t know Hermione. This girl is wicked smart,” said Padma, smirking. “And I’m a sarcastic bitch who never compliments anybody, so you know I mean it.”

Hermione looked at Harry. “Show them,” Harry said, nodding and smiling.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Hogwarts, a History, page 342, starting from line seven,” she said determinedly. And she began listing off whole memorized sentences, then paragraphs, even as the Slytherins stared in disbelief.

When she was finally finished, Harry said, “She can apply it all, too, and she practices like mad. She’s the best in our year - better than me.”

“Damn you’re cool,” said Daphne, smiling. Hermione smiled and blushed in return, pleased, and Harry saw the beginning of a friendship.

“That’s incredible,” said Theo quietly, with a new and truly Slytherin appreciation.

“Yup. She’s the brains and I’m the witty banter,” said Padma dryly, and Blaise looked amused despite himself.

“Both are important,” he said, unusually friendly.

“Well, Harry, I’ve got to admit I had my doubts, but you’ve got good taste in friends,” said Hagrid, smiling warmly. Harry relaxed and sat back, happy. His closest friends were all getting along.

Hagrid then went on to ask each of them about their weeks, warm and encouraging and almost motherly, feeding them more tea and rock cakes and giving them advice based on his long running time in and knowledge of the school. Harry watched as each of his friends relaxed despite themselves, almost allowed to be children more in the face of Hagrid’s caring, parental nature.

Yes. This had gone spectacularly well. A good end to a good first week.

But the week wasn’t quite over yet. Harry’s eyes wandered as he let his friends get to know one another, and curiously, he picked up a Daily Prophet newspaper article clipping from underneath the tea cozy. 

Gringotts Break-In Latest

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards and witches unknown. 

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

“But we’re not telling you what’s in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Ron Weasley had told Harry on the Express there had been a successful summer break-in at Gringotts. But Ron hadn’t mentioned the date.

“Hagrid!” said Harry suddenly. “This Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday, the day we went to buy my school supplies! It might have been happening while we were there!”

Hagrid carefully avoided Harry’s eye. He grunted and offered him another rock cake, then turned back to Harry’s friends and forcefully changed the subject. Harry read over the clipping again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. Hagrid had emptied vault 713, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were after?

As soon as they were all walking back to Hogwarts castle for dinner, Padma asked immediately, “What was that Gringotts thing back there?”

“I’ve never seen anyone so openly and blatantly avoid a subject,” said Blaise frankly.

“I noticed that, too,” said Hermione, troubled. 

Daphne and Theo were listening closely.

Harry sighed. “The day Hagrid took me to Diagon to buy my school supplies was 31 July, my birthday. That day, he took out a grubby little wrapped package from vault 713 at Gringotts, essentially ‘emptying’ the vault. He wouldn’t tell me what the package was. Called it Hogwarts business, said it was for Dumbledore, who at least some of us have already established can be kind of shady in spite of all his brilliance.

“Well, supposedly, the same day, those thieves tried to break into Gringotts. They got successfully back out, but nothing was taken - because the vault had already been emptied earlier that very same day.”

“You think you watched the big vault be emptied,” Blaise realized.

“Dumbledore’s definitely important enough to have Dark wizards after a vault of his,” said Theo seriously.

“But what could it have been?” Hermione asked curiously. “How big was the package?”

“That’s the thing. It was only about two inches all around. It was a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper, lying on the floor.

“And that’s not the only thing that doesn’t make sense to me about this week.”

“What else could be there?” said Daphne, both concerned and disbelieving.

Harry told everyone about the moment in the Great Hall with Quirrell and Snape. “Both of them were looking at me and it could only have been one of them. My scar has never hurt before. But the minute I seemed in pain, they both looked away and they refused to look at me again. So is my scar a kind of Dark energy radar, like Pansy said?

“And… the third floor corridor on the right hand side only being out of bounds this year? What’s that all about? What’s suddenly on the third floor?”

“In isolation they all might be nothing. But together…” Hermione admitted. “It is kind of weird.”

“Do you think they’re all connected?” said Daphne intently.

“I don’t see how they could be,” said Harry quietly, gazing ahead of himself, the wheels in his head turning. “But somehow they all feel weird to me.”

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Padma dryly, but she wasn’t the only one of his friends who looked serious.


	6. Chapter 6

“Mr Potter, I’m so glad to have you join the music program!” Flitwick squeaked as Harry followed him down the corridor with guitar in hand. “Let’s see - oh, in here will do.”

They entered a dark, empty classroom. “Better if the blinds are drawn and the lights are out,” said Flitwick. He set a great stone basin in front of Harry, and swirled silvery white translucent memories within the basin in a hand, the silvery memories part air and part water. Slowly, a teacher rose out of the bowl, holding a guitar, and began speaking.

“Good luck, Mr Potter!” said Flitwick, winking, and he bustled out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him. 

Harry sat down, picked up his guitar, and tried to copy what the man in the memory was doing, his music teacher shining and shimmering in the dark and empty classroom.

He started doing that for one hour twice a week after classes, once for guitar and once for singing. And how did he sound? Godawful. Thank God he was alone. He was terrible.

When Harry confessed this, embarrassed, to Padma and Flitwick in the Ravenclaw common room one night, they laughed. “Oh, of course, Mr Potter, you’re just a beginner doing exercises!” said Flitwick kindly. “Everyone sounds horrible at first! You’re doing just fine.” 

He patted Harry on the hand and Harry smiled. He decided to continue on. Away from the Dursleys, he finally wanted to be his own person.

He had the same general method of study with graphic art and cartoon drawing, this time with a candle flickering beside him on the desk to help him see his paper in the darkness. His drawing really wasn’t much better at first, but what was fascinating about the materials he used was that the minute the art was finished, it came to life and started doing a few set simple movements, forming a two dimensional personality.

His drawing was awful, but at least he made something. His music was awful, but at least he was learning. And he eased his way into imagination - began with exercises and prompts to get himself started.

The Dursleys would have hated this, and wasn’t that wonderful to think about?

-

Chess club took place in a dungeon classroom. People were ranked in ability - Harry was a beginner - and sat down with a chess set across from someone who was of their same ability level. Wizard’s chess involved animated chess pieces attacking one another, or even shouting at the players, making it a lot like strategically directing troops in battle. So each player took a turn using their own chess set, the one they were familiar with.

Snape, who ran chess club, told the new beginners, “Eventually, your chess pieces will grow with you and grow to trust you. This will give you an advantage. So use your own chess pieces as much as possible.”

Harry’s troops didn’t trust him at all at first, in part because though he took Hermione’s advice and found he had a knack for unconventional, surprising strategy, he was still a novice. So he smirked and played strategically against countless new opponents.

Snape watched with distant approval as he grew down there in the dungeons before the chess tables.

-

Book club was genuinely interesting, something Harry hadn’t honestly expected.

He had to read a chapter a week, and then his group would get together to discuss the chapter. They would all sit in the Ravenclaw common room in a circle and just talk, one person raising their hand at a time. Harry did have to get used to raising his hand and offering speech, especially as Sinistra, the Astronomy professor and a young Black woman, began encouraging him to more often.

At first Harry just read for fun, but as he talked more with people, he started to see the more analytical society aspects of the fiction he was reading. He started analyzing what he was reading more.

This didn’t ruin reading for him. In fact, it improved it.

He shared his new findings and books with Hermione, and they had many lovely conversations together on the steps to the Ravenclaw dormitories. Slowly, in his own quiet way, Harry became okay with being more skeptical and opinionated.

He was starting to grow comfortable in himself - amongst other things, more soft spoken, acerbic, creative, unconventional, and sarcastic.

-

Harry would take flying lessons with Slytherin, as it turned out. Flying lessons started for Slytherins on Thursday of the second week of term. The minute they saw the announcement on the notice board, Draco started laughing.

“We get to take flying lessons with the Gryffindors?!” he crowed, himself often bragging about being a good flyer. 

Harry realized Hermione and Neville would be Gryffindors in that class. Somehow, he doubted their enormously great abilities on a broom, though Ron Weasley and his friends Dean and Seamus also talked about flying almost constantly.

Himself, he was rather excited. He’d been looking forward to learning to fly in the same way he had first looked forward to getting a wand. They’d be learning flying on the school brooms, and those were supposed to be terrible according to Fred and George - who were both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and who often got together to share advice and school gossip with Harry. 

But otherwise, the whole thing sounded awesome.

Flying lessons with Madam Hooch, a hawkish woman with short grey hair and sharp yellow eyes, took place on the flat green lawn in front of the school. There were two rows of brooms across from one another, one for each house. The Slytherins arrived first, followed by the Gryffindors.

Flying lessons started out simple enough. Everyone stepped up beside a broomstick. Harry’s didn’t look like much, but it didn’t have to be. Today, all Madam Hooch was planning on having them do was learn how to mount their broom, kick off gently, rise a few feet in the air, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly.

So they had to get their brooms first. They were supposed to stick their right hand over the broom and say, “UP!” Harry’s jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few who did. Terrified Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. Nervous, nerdy Hermione’s had simply rolled over on the ground.

“Hey!” Harry hissed to her, whispering, across the line, and she looked up. “It can sense that you’re frightened. Pretend that you’re not.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. She tried saying, “Up!” more confidently - and was rewarded with a smile as the broom shot into her hand.

“See?” said Harry. “It needs to know that you trust it to carry you.” He shrugged. “Think of it like a horse. Animals can sense emotions, too.”

Next they mounted their brooms and Madam Hooch walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Finally came the floating part of the exercise. She began to count down for the kickoff, her whistle at the ready…

But before she could blow the whistle, Neville, nervous and terrified of being left on the ground behind everyone else, kicked off and shot up about twenty feet in the air as people screamed. He looked down, saw the ground below him, and got so scared he jumped and fell off the broom, plummeting to the ground below with a crack in a lump-shaped heap.

Harry waited to make sure Neville was okay - he was crying as a pale Madam Hooch helped him up, but seemed alright except for an injured wrist - and then tried very hard not to seem too amused. It was terrible, finding something like that funny, but… the moment did have its humor.

“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing!” barked Madam Hooch. “If I see a single broom in the air, the one flying it will be out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch! Come on, dear.”

She led Neville off with her arm around him.

The minute she was out of earshot, Draco immediately took to laughing and mocking Neville Longbottom, with Pansy quickly joining in. It was the exact opposite of classy, and Harry and his friends watched, exasperated, as Draco’s Slytherin group increasingly antagonized and infuriated the Gryffindors. “This is why they don’t like us,” Theo muttered, and Hermione winced beside him in agreement even as Blaise chuckled.

Suddenly, Draco darted forward and grabbed a small glass ball out of the grass. “Look! This fell out of Longbottom’s pocket! By God, is this a Remembrall? He doesn’t even have a memory?”

“Give it back!” Padma’s twin sister Parvati said heatedly.

“Come on, Draco, lay off, don’t steal the poor kid’s shit,” said Daphne, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Longbottom falling off his broom was funny for about sixty seconds. Get over it.”

“Why?” said Draco mockingly, his eyes dancing. Draco loved all the attention being on him and he adored mocking others.

“Draco, stop it,” said Harry, quietly but firmly. Draco scowled, sneering, his face turning faintly nasty.

Then Hermione screamed. Ron had darted forward, grabbed Neville’s Remembrall, and taken off into the air on his broom with it in a feat of extremely stupid bravery. A few more girls screamed as Ron took his broom ever higher.

“Come up and get it, Malfoy!” he said, fiery.

“And get in trouble? No, thanks,” Draco drawled from the ground.

“Well - well good!” said Ron fiercely, recovering. He pulled his broom back in triumph - but it got tangled up in a tree branch behind and he fell off the broom and straight into the air. 

Harry didn’t even register himself moving. One minute he was watching Ron fall; next minute, he was on his broom and sweeping upward to catch Ron as he fell. The wind whipped through his hair, he angled his broom perfectly to catch Ron mid-fall, and in a rush of fierce joy, Harry realized he had found something he could do without being taught.

Flying was easy. Flying was wonderful.

He floated down to the ground, and put Ron down, touching back onto the grass. Ron flopped onto the ground and stared up at him, still holding his precious Remembrall, looking awed but not exactly pleased.

“You’re welcome,” said Harry flatly, dismounting smoothly from his broom as everyone rushed to meet them. “I hope that stupid glass ball was worth it.”

“HARRY POTTER! RONALD WEASLEY!”

They looked around, hearts sinking. Harry’s adrenaline faded. Professor McGonagall was charging toward them, eyes flashing. She’d seen it all.

“Please, Professor!” Hermione darted in front of McGonagall. “Harry was only trying to save Ron’s life!”

“Yes, I am aware of that, Miss Granger. It was not exactly his place, but he’s not who I’m most angry at,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “Potter, I’m calling you into a meeting with your two heads of house and they’ll decide what to do with you. You saved one of my students, so you’ll get in no trouble from me.

“Weasley.” She turned flashing eyes to Ron, who swallowed. “You are in somewhat deeper danger. On top of everything else, you weren’t a particularly exceptional flyer.”

“But Professor - he was only trying to defend Neville -” Parvati as well as Dean and Seamus were speaking up for Ron.

“Silence! Both of you - put your brooms down and follow me.”

Harry and Ron walked in silence behind sweeping Professor McGonagall on her way toward the castle. Harry couldn’t imagine himself being expelled for saving a fellow student’s life, but Ron looked positively nauseous underneath his freckles. Harry almost risked saying something comforting, but then remembered Ron’s ugly look as Harry had set him down on the grass and realized he wasn’t always that kind of person anymore anyway. Not if he didn’t care for the other person.

“Wait here,” said McGonagall shortly in the entrance hall, and she swept away.

Ron turned suddenly to Harry, infuriated. “I didn’t need your help. I didn’t need you to save me,” he said heatedly. “So I’m not done with you - I’ve got a bone to pick with you later.”

“Fine by me,” said Harry coldly, looking straight ahead of himself. “Do what you’ve got to do.”

The silence that followed was almost physically painful, given that promising first afternoon on the Express.

McGonagall at last returned. “Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick are in that first floor classroom to your far right corner, Potter,” she said. “Weasley.” Her eyes flashed behind her glasses. “Come with me.”

As Ron left, he, like Harry, must be wondering if he’d have a later to pick a bone with Harry with. McGonagall looked angry enough to spit.

Not envying Weasley, Harry entered the classroom slowly - and paused in surprise, looking up, eyes widening in a rarer show of surprise from behind his reserve. Standing with Snape and Flitwick were two burly older boys, one a Slytherin and one a Ravenclaw. The Slytherin was gruff, black-haired, and square-jawed; the Ravenclaw was brunette and conventionally handsome with a thinner face.

“Harry,” said Flitwick kindly, “this is Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, and Marcus Flint, Slytherin Quidditch Captain.”

“Professor McGonagall tells us you shot upward about fifty feet in the air, caught a falling boy, and touched down safely back on the ground - first time on a broomstick,” said Snape, with extreme interest.

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, realizing he wasn’t about to be punished. “And, as much as I’d love to join Quidditch - I’m a first year.”

All four in the room smirked, even Flitwick.

“It takes two teachers to overturn a minor rule like that one without the headmaster’s direct approval,” said Flitwick. “And here we have two.”

“You would be the youngest Seeker in a century, and not even a Gryffindor at that,” said Snape, sounding extremely pleased.

“So… how would this work?” said Harry curiously.

“Well, right now for one more year both teams have a Seeker, Harry, which is what you look like with your light, fast build,” said Roger Davies seriously. “And this actually works out quite well. This year, we propose a testing of your skills.”

“We share you,” said Marcus Flint, smirking. “You alternate teams between games. Sometimes you temporarily replace the current Slytherin Seeker; other times you temporarily replace the current Ravenclaw Seeker.”

“We’re trying you out,” Davies explained. “You would do one two-hour practice with each team per week.”

“... I think I can make that work,” Harry agreed, interested. Two days of the week, he would have three hours busy after classes, followed directly by dinner. Some homework after dinner, while the rest of it was saved for his freer days that only had one hour missing after classes. Weekends, of course, he was completely open. It wasn’t totally terrible - he thought he could do it. “You’d have to teach me about Quidditch. I don’t know much.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Davies smugly, as Flint gave a wicked grin. “We can handle that.”

Both teachers looked inordinately pleased. “... Did McGonagall know what she was doing when she handed me off?” Harry asked curiously. “I know she heads Gryffindor house… and they haven’t been doing well. And I know she’s punishing Ron right now.”

“It’s not our fault she doesn’t have our vision,” said Snape loftily.

“Oh, no, Harry,” said Flitwick. “All in good fun, she has no idea.”

Now all Harry had to worry about was whatever Ron Weasley had planned for him. And somehow, he thought he could handle that.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry’s friends were amazed as they walked with him toward the Great Hall for dinner. Luckily, none of them were Quidditch fanatics, so they were impressed instead of jealous.

“Snape and Flitwick are both pitching in to get me the newest broom model - Nimbus Two Thousand. I said I could pay, but they insisted,” said Harry. “The broom should be arriving next week - which is also when my Quidditch basics lesson with Flint and Davies is.”

“The youngest Seeker in a century,” said Hermione in disbelief. “That’s incredible. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you were really good today, Harry, but -”

“I think a wow is in order,” said Theo dryly.

“Wow,” Daphne supplied sarcastically.

“Very good, thank you,” Theo replied without pause.

“Do you feel any pressure?” Blaise asked Harry, grinning.

“Not yet,” said Harry flatly. “I suspect I will, though.”

“And we’ll be right there with you, threatening you into doing your best,” said Padma readily.

“Thanks, Padma,” said Harry. “You always know how to keep me cheerful.”

Suddenly, a voice called out from behind Harry. “Potter!”

Harry turned. “Weasley,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Come back from detention assignment and ready to show me what for?” His tone was cool and sarcastic. Theo snickered and Blaise smirked.

Ron was glaring, flushed, fists clenched. Seamus and Dean looked uncertain behind him. “Wizard’s duel,” he said in a hard voice. “The trophy room. Tonight. Midnight.”

Harry thought fast. “Fine,” he said. “And since Hermione looks horrified by rule breaking, Blaise is my second.” Wizard’s duels were one of the many things he had begun reading about recently in addition to his improved school studies.

“Seamus is mine,” said Ron threateningly. “See you then.” Forceful and red-faced, he stalked off.

“He looks like he’s about to poop himself,” Harry observed, looking after Ron. “A really constipated kind of poop.”

“Harry, I can’t believe you!” said Hermione indignantly immediately. “Being caught out after hours could get both your houses into trouble! This is so incredibly selfish -”

“Relax, Hermione. I’m not going to actually go.” Harry rolled his eyes, sounding bored.

“What - but - do nothing to the challenge?” Hermione blinked, looking like she was paradoxically not happy with this either.

“Not exactly,” said Harry. “You guys feel like taking a little trip right now during dinner? I have to scope out the territory surrounding the trophy room.”

“What for?” said Theo.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Padma, her eyes sharp. “He’s going to set a trap for Weasley and then not show up to be around when it goes off.”

“Exactly.” Harry smiled. “Come on, Hermione.” She looked uncertain. “It’s just a prank. If Ron wants to go creeping around after hours for a wizard’s duel just to prove he’s tougher than me, why don’t we teach him firsthand just why it’s a stupid idea?”

“... You’re not going to hurt him,” said Hermione.

“No.” Harry rolled his eyes. “That would make me as stupid as him.”

“It’s a fair point,” said Daphne, and Blaise was nodding.

So in the end, even Hermione agreed to go. 

They ended up creeping through the area around the trophy room while everyone else was at dinner, discussing possible ideas. “I have a Filibuster Firework we could leave somewhere,” Theo offered.

“And… you’re sure that won’t hurt him?” said Harry skeptically.

“It won’t,” Blaise assured him. “Filibuster Fireworks make loud bangs and throw a bunch of pretty colored lights in midair. I’ve seen people let them go inside whole rooms full of people. No one’s ever hurt. They’re not festival fireworks. It’s why students are allowed them.”

“Most likely it’ll just scare the crap out of him and whoever he happens to bring along,” said Daphne, grinning.

“And it might land him another detention. Filch patrols at night,” said Padma seriously, sharp eyed and alert.

“Shouldn’t we leave it in the trophy room, then? We don’t know for sure that he’ll go anyplace else,” said Hermione, “if he has to run off. Ron’s not very precise when he gets emotional, so there’s no predicting him.”

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“What?” she said defensively.

“I think we’ve corrupted her,” said Blaise, grinning.

Hermione sniffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re all awful influences.”

“I’m touched,” said Harry, smiling, and he meant it.

Suddenly, they all froze. Filch’s voice could be heard coming down the hall, talking to his cat Mrs Norris. “They just don’t understand, my sweet. None of them do -”

Harry’s first thought was that Filch would have made a great super villain but was really pathetic as a janitor. His second thought he whispered aloud. “Shit,” he hissed. “Do you guys know for sure if we’re allowed to be somewhere else during dinner?”

Everyone’s eyes widened and they paled significantly.

“This way,” Harry mouthed, and he led them as quickly and silently as he could away from Filch’s voice. Filch wasn’t looking for anyone, so his voice fell quickly behind. But just in case, a corridor or two away Harry broke into a run and his friends followed him.

Harry had already memorized much of Hogwarts castle and grounds, exploring it on his own, including several very handy shortcuts. He ducked through a couple of them, his friends followed, and then he saw a random door up ahead that he didn’t recognize. “In here,” he hissed, whispering the unlocking charm with his wand and hearing the bolt unclick. They all piled in, pressed their ear against the closed door, and listened.

“... I think he’s gone,” said Harry at last. He turned around - and his heart stopped.

They were in the forbidden third floor corridor. And now he saw quite clearly why it was forbidden.

A giant, three-headed dog - a Cerberus - took up the entire corridor, the whole space between ceiling and floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It had lines of drool as tall as a person, yellowed fangs, rolling eyes, and Harry knew the only reason they weren’t dead yet was because they had surprised it. 

But it was quickly getting over that. There was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

All Harry’s friends had frozen with fear, but Harry groped for the doorknob. “Get out,” he said. “Get out!” The last sentence was barked in a harsh voice. They all piled out, slammed the door shut, and fled.

“Theo,” Harry panted as they hurried, shaking, down a corridor a few minutes later, “do what we discussed and leave the Filibuster in the trophy room. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“Of course,” said Theo, surprisingly deferential. He left and about two minutes later came back. 

As they walked toward the Great Hall, Harry’s mind was spinning.

“... Harry,” said Hermione tentatively, “what’s wrong?”

“You saw the trapdoor it was standing on, right?” said Harry, staring ahead of himself as his walk started to slow down. His friends nodded, concerned. “Shit. I didn’t imagine it. So I think I’ve figured it out. The problem is, it’s my word against a teacher’s, so there’s no way to prove my theory without revealing my scar can sense Dark magic.”

“What do you mean?” said Blaise quietly.

“Don’t you see? All the pieces just fit together. That package was taken from Gringotts for Dumbledore - taken somewhere else, hidden there. And do you know what Hagrid told me that exact same day? That the only place safer for hiding something than Gringotts… was Hogwarts itself.

“Whatever was in that package, that tiny but valuable thing, it’s underneath the Cerberus, underneath that trapdoor. I’ve read about them, and I know at least Hermione has as well. Cerberus are used as very powerfully magical guard dogs.

“So why would I sense Dark magic in one of our professors, even if I don’t know which one and either one of them could be faking? Because we know people are after whatever’s down there. Including, it seems, one of our teachers themselves.”

“But… but Harry, a teacher would never do that!” said Hermione, alarmed.

“Are you willing to bet anything on that?” Blaise asked seriously. “Teachers are fallible people, too.”

Despite herself, Hermione - like the rest of them - looked worried.


	8. Chapter 8

Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom (of all people) ended up getting a detention for being out of bed after hours and setting off a Filibuster Firework in the trophy room. That was two detentions on Ron Weasley’s record in the first two weeks of school. After that, he walked the halls glaring at Harry and his friends with a nasty eye, but as far as Harry was concerned, Ron had done most of it to himself.

“I didn’t make him get on that broom,” he told his friends once. “I didn’t bully him into anything, and I made sure not to hurt him. He was the one who suggested being in the trophy room at midnight. I just made sure he got caught.”

“And the fact that he irritates you had nothing to do with that,” said Theo, grinning, and Harry smirked despite himself.

“Harry’s right,” Hermione said loftily. “The one who hasn’t done any serious rule-breaking is actually Harry.”

In the third week, Harry’s Nimbus Two Thousand came and it was a blow further. About eight owls flew into the Great Hall carrying a long, bulky package and set it front of Harry. Less people stared than one might expect; by now, it was widely understood that Harry Potter, in addition to being brilliant and quirky, knowing everybody, and being involved in an insane number of extracurriculars, got weird mail a lot.

Harry met all of his friends’ eyes. He picked up the package, and they all stood from their respective tables and casually met him out in the entrance hall. “Let’s head to an empty classroom,” he said, his eyes flashing. “You guys want to see -?”

“Harry, you do know we’re not allowed broomsticks, right?”

Harry turned around. Both Ron and Draco were standing there, distinct looks of spite and jealousy on each separate face.

“It’s against school rules for first years,” said Ron threateningly. “Even you can’t get past that.”

Luckily for Harry, Professor Flitwick happened to be passing.

“Professor, could you please tell these two a special exception has been made for me with regard to the broom rule?” said Harry politely.

“Of course, Mr Potter. Yes, don’t worry, boys, he’s been allowed one,” said Flitwick kindly. “Special circumstances.”

Harry’s new Quidditch position was being kept a well-guarded secret outside the teams, so both Ron and Draco looked thunderstruck and horrified.

Harry smirked. “Thank you, Professor,” he said dryly, and left with his friends up the marble staircase.

“Well, Harry,” said Hermione, “Ron hates you and Draco wants to be you. How does it feel?”

“It feels like I have a new broom,” said Harry calmly. “Let’s check it out.”

They entered an empty classroom, unwrapped the package, and the new Nimbus Two Thousand rolled out onto the desk. “... It’s wonderful,” said Harry softly and meaningfully, looking intently at the broom.

It had a long, shining mahogany handle with its brand name printed in gold at one end. The twigs were all swept back in one perfect formation. It was elegant, high-end, light, and speedy.

“It’s the best on the market,” said Blaise bluntly. “It should be.”

Harry was a Ravenclaw that day, so he took it back to the Tower, hid it in his dormitory under his bed (he was getting better at solving the riddles fast by now), and went to classes. He forced his mind to focus, because it wanted to be elsewhere - it wanted to be on the broom, and on his Quidditch lesson this evening.

Finally, he took up the broom and went in the late afternoon down to the Quidditch pitch always visible through Ravenclaw windows. It was a vast gold stadium, with seats erected high so the spectators could see. Above the field of flat green grass were six gigantic gold hoops that looked like the sticks Muggle children used to blow bubbles with - three on each side.

Deciding to test this whole flying thing a little further, Harry got on his broom and took off. He flew around the stadium, and as before, it all came naturally to him. The broom moved at the lightest touch, following his every whim. He did a few loop the loops and smiled whimsically, feeling a kind of rush of joy within him.

“Potter! Get down here!”

Flint and Davies had arrived with a crate between them. Harry flew down and touched on the grass. “You’re good. They were right,” said Flint, impressed, eyeing Harry calculatingly.

“Yes, quite well done,” said Davies loftily. “Now - we’ll teach you the basics of Quidditch together in this section. Then you’ll move to practicing with both teams - twice a week, one for each team.”

“Right,” said Harry, nodding determinedly.

So they opened the crate and showed Harry all the different balls in action, explaining the rules of Quidditch to him and even letting him hold the Snitch and take a whack at a flying Bludger with a Beater’s bat. They were impressed both with the quick way he caught on and with his memory - in this, Harry was determined from the beginning to do well.

But Flint and Davies also each had special lessons for him.

“Quidditch is psychological just as much as it is physical, Potter,” said Davies seriously.

Harry frowned and cocked his head. “What do you mean?” he said thoughtfully.

“Take Ravenclaw, for example.” Davies looked sideways cautiously at a smirking Flint. “On the Ravenclaw team, we’ll emphasize taking the weaknesses of each individual house into account and playing on those - modifying your behavior to trick your opponent into letting you win. For example, with girls Gryffindor boys tend to be chivalrous, so we teach our Ravenclaw girls to purposefully block their way - the Gryffindor boy usually won’t push past them, even if it’s to make a good move. Think of it like wizard’s chess, which you already do.”

“And in Slytherin,” added Flint, “we believe in preserving our house honor by winning at all costs. So we teach you to be utilitarian - simply put, if it works, do it. Don’t go out to be cruel, but don’t be afraid to win. Quidditch was built to be a violent and merciless game. Treat it that way. Its practice also involves pretty intensive workouts, so be warned - you don’t look like the type to bulk up, but in a slim way you’ll become significantly more fit and muscular.”

“Really, the same rules will apply to dueling, when you learn that,” said Davies helpfully. “So - without further ado, let’s try you out.”

They had Harry fly around chasing ordinary golf balls trying to catch them all in the sunset, a proximity of the Seeker position’s job. Harry didn’t miss a single ball and both team Captains seemed thrilled. 

Finally, when it was too dark to continue, the three of them left to head back to the castle, chattering excitedly together.

Up until this point, each week if not each day had been full of meaning for Harry. But after this point, normal life and a routine became established and time began to move much faster. After about the middle of the third week, he finally started to feel ordinary and at home at Hogwarts.

Events started happening further apart in response. The following weeks sped by and Harry was so busy - between friends, rivalries, Houses, classes, homework, extracurriculars, and Quidditch practice - that he barely noticed. But he had already changed, he realized. Changed significantly.

-

"Zero to hero,

Just like that."

\- "Zero to Hero" from Hercules


	9. Chapter 9

Soon enough, Harry realized one day in utter surprise that he had already been at Hogwarts two months. He’d been so busy, he barely noticed. The castle already felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons and studies, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that he had mastered the basics. He forged ahead with Hermione and his other friends, all of them exploring uncharted magical territory together in order to win it during classes.

And in his extracurriculars, he was improving. His guitar playing no longer sounded totally terrible in simple exercises, his breath control had improved for singing, and he could now draw basic things for his cartoon and graphic design studies. He was becoming better at being originally creative and got a thrill of satisfaction every time he did something well. He was getting better, also, at critical analysis and speaking up during book club meetings, becoming more familiar with social issues, and his unconventional strategy in chess was beginning to come full to bear. He had finally become accustomed to Quidditch practice and tactics with Flint and Davies, and sure enough, between Hogwarts food and Quidditch workouts, his small, slim body was becoming leaner and more lithe, less bony and skinny and dorky.

He felt like a full member of both his houses, too. He had gained significant things from each of them, and he had become used to things like Slytherin sarcasm or the riddles on the Ravenclaw door knocker. He had big house pride and now could not imagine living anywhere else - they and his friends had changed so much for him. He’d even gotten into quite nice conversations with both of his house ghosts, and he felt he could come to Gemma or Robert with almost anything.

On Halloween morning, they woke to the smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Harry was a Ravenclaw that day, and he and Hermione partnered up in Flitwick’s class to take turns practicing levitating a feather. Harry took Hermione’s corrections with good humor; he had learned by now to trust her when it came to anything magical. In the end, they both managed to levitate the feather and Flitwick praised them.

Classes seemed to speed by and soon enough it was time to head to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast - Harry’s second feast at Hogwarts, and the second time he would have to move between house tables. He found his entire big group of friends and, chattering, they all entered the Great Hall together with the other students that evening. Harry stopped in awe.

Live bats flew in droves across the Hall, swooping down, making the candles in the massive jack-o-lantern pumpkins stutter. “They really went all out,” said Harry, impressed.

“They do for all holidays, but this one’s special,” said Theo seriously.

“Yeah. Halloween is the most powerfully magical wizarding holiday,” said Blaise. Padma and Daphne had already known this, but Hermione looked as interested as Harry.

The two groups parted ways and Harry went to sit with the Ravenclaws for the dinner portion. The food appeared magically on the plates, as it had at the start of term feast. All sorts of treats that were Halloween-themed had appeared across the table, from recipes baked with pumpkin to black and orange treats and sweets.

Harry was just helping himself to some dinner when Professor Quirrell sprinted into the Hall, turban askew and a look of terror on his face. He reached Dumbledore’s seat the High Table in the sudden dead silence, gasping for breath. “Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know.”

He sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was pandemonium. People screamed and leaped from their seats, swarming en masse in confused directions. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Dumbledore’s wand to bring stillness and silence.

“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your houses back to your dormitories immediately! Teachers, follow me to the dungeons!”

The crowds began pushing toward the big doors out of the Great Hall.

The Ravenclaws were moving behind Robert with them, but Harry looked over at the Slytherins and a harassed Gemma. “God, Dumbledore really doesn’t think of anyone except Gryffindors,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” said Hermione in concern, as Padma frowned.

“Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but the Slytherin commons are in the dungeons,” said Harry, deadpan. “And by the looks of the Hufflepuffs, they’re underground, too. They can’t go to their commons. Robert!” He called to Robert, who looked around in surprise. “What if the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins both go to the library across the hall from our commons? We could hide out together! Safety in numbers!”

Robert looked over at Gemma - nodded. “I’ll round up the Ravenclaws. You go get them,” he said.

Harry ran over to the Slytherins. “Slytherins!” he called. “Follow the Ravenclaws! We’re all going to the library!” 

The Slytherins all looked extremely relieved. A few of them even cheered. “Thank you,” said Gemma wearily, relaxing.

As the Ravenclaws and Slytherins all swarmed together toward the marble staircase, Harry’s friends met up again.

“How could a troll get in?” said Daphne, concerned. “Aren’t they supposed to be really stupid?”

“Must’ve had help. Peeves playing a joke?” Blaise suggested helpfully.

“Well. That or one of our suspects let it in. As a diversion so he could go to the third floor,” said Harry darkly.

Hermione gasped. “What - what do we do?” she said, worried, as they all looked to Harry.

Harry thought hard. “He can’t be going to get whatever’s under the trapdoor now. No preparation and not enough time,” he decided.

Padma nodded. “Makes sense,” she said seriously. “He’s just checking out his territory instead.”

“Exactly,” said Harry. “So - we don’t do anything. We don’t run off in a feat of stupid bravery. We let whoever it is play his hand, then wait to see how everything seems to have fared for him.”

“The waiting game,” said Theo quietly. “Let him move and show himself first. Yeah. It makes sense.”

“So in other words, we enjoy Halloween. Excellent,” said Blaise, pleased.

The two houses hid out in the darkened library together. It was a massive place fit for the castle it was placed in, floor to ceiling rows of books everywhere, but it was massive, dark, and shadowy in the evening with only candles lit. The students all huddled together, fearful of the troll but somehow excited at the same time. A Halloween feast was magicked up to them, so after they feasted, some of the younger ones ran around the library laughing while the older ones told spooky ghost stories in the flickering candlelight to terrify the remaining younger students.

The troll was taken care of by the teachers, it never came up, and meanwhile - for a few hours - it was almost like houses didn’t exist at all. They were just students, sharing a Halloween celebration together.


End file.
